


Hamster

by Mediumdinosaur



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Everything has a Price, F/M, Favors, Fluff, Things Go Wrong, but ends happy, cute fluffy animals, eventually, it gets angsty, oh no, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 84,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mediumdinosaur/pseuds/Mediumdinosaur
Summary: When Giant Goldfish heads out on a weekend retreat, Poppy asks Tora if he can pet sit her new hamster. He's all too eager to strike a deal.Now all he has to do is make it through the weekend... right? Oh, if only life were so simple.
Relationships: Tora/Poppy
Comments: 583
Kudos: 481





	1. Negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning for the whole story because the 'price' is NSFW (of course it is) and that may feel kind of pressure-y...? Not sure where the line falls for everyone but I can at least say Poppy won't do anything she doesn't want to...
> 
> Also, this takes place after ep. 35, so if you aren't there, beware.
> 
> I wasn't going to start a new story this soon since I'm still working on Diamonds and am busy, but when inspiration strikes, what can you do -shrugs-. Anyways, I hope at least someone enjoys it, haha.

Tora leaned forward on his couch, gripping the game controller with both hands. His large thumb mashed a button, and a curse growled out of his mouth. Stupid game physics. In real life, he could have made that shot blindfolded. He aimed again.

His phone buzzed as he made a second shot. A hit this time. He flipped to the start menu and grabbed his phone. A dancing avocado took up his screen, the name _Bobby_ above it. His lips twitched up at the corners.

It had been nearly a week since she had grabbed him, kissed him, and shoved him down the stairs. All they’d done was text; she’d gotten busy at work. _Back for more, sweetheart?_ He thought as he hit answer. Maybe she wanted to invite him over for the upcoming weekend. That would be sick.

“What’s good?”

“Tora? Hey, do you have a second?”

“Yup. Shoot.”

“I was hoping for a favor.”

“Why, ya need another reason to kiss me?” he smirked and leaned back against the couch, throwing his free arm along the back.

“Nevermind. I’ll call someone else.” Her voice was exasperated.

“Shit, Bobby, I’m teasing. Ya make it too easy. Whatcha need?”

“…Well, we have a company retreat this weekend, so I’m going out of town from tomorrow until Monday.”

“’kay.” Out of town? This was sounding less good. It really was just a favor.

“…and you know I just got a hamster...”

“I thought that was a joke.” She’d texted him a picture with the caption _his name is Sake_ , but he’d thought she was just being cute.

“What? No. I really got one. And the only other friend I don’t work with had a family emergency come up…”

“…’kay. So?” He shouldered the phone up to his ear and dug in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Can you feed him while I’m gone?”

He thought about this for a moment while he flicked at the lighter and took a drag.

“Yeah, but what’s in it for me?”

“What do you want, thug?” he could hear the scowl in her voice and chuckled.

“Let me think about it.”

“Fine. We’ll figure it out. Um, I can leave my key under my mat.”

“You’re kidding, right? Don’t fucking do that. Ever.”

“I don’t have time to get a copy made. I already gave my spare to the friend with the emergency.”

“Christ. Just take your key, I’ll find a way in.” He couldn’t help but say it, even if she had no idea he wasn’t joking.

“Sure thing, Mr. Parkour instructor.” She laughed. “But seriously, where _should_ I leave it?”

“When are ya leaving?”

“Tomorrow at 10. Jacob’s picking me up.”

Fucking Jacob.

“I’ll get to you before then.”

\---

He meant to arrive closer to 9:30, but mornings were not Tora’s strong suit. His neck was sore, he was out of cigarettes, and he had no food in the apartment.

 _On my way,_ he texted.

At last he arrived and parked outside Poppy’s building. She buzzed him in when he texted again. Trevor squinted at him as he came through the gate, then jumped and looked away, busying himself. Tora snorted, climbed the stairs, and knocked. It was only a few minutes to ten.

“Hey, come in!” Poppy said breathlessly, wrenching the door open. An overstuffed backpack and her messenger bag waited in the middle of the floor. She was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and a high ponytail. For a moment he was frozen. How did she look so damn cute all the time? She immediately scurried into the kitchen to tidy up her dishes from breakfast.

The hamster cage, a new addition, sat on a shelf. He leaned over to peer in the side. Water bottle, food dish, bedding. A huge hamster wheel against the back wall. A brightly colored jungle gym with tubes and ladders.

A little orange blob was sleeping inside a plastic dome. Huh.

Poppy came back out of the kitchen.

“Just the one?” he asked, poking a finger against the glass. “No friends?”

“No, he’s a Syrian hamster. They’re loners.” Poppy bent over beside him, peering at the little fluffy animal. “Apparently if you put another one in there, they fight to the death.”

“No shit. Seriously? _That_ thing?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Who knew. Fucking badass.”

Small, cute, sadistic. She really was a hamster. He looked at it a moment longer before straightening. Poppy was peering up at him with those huge, commanding eyes of hers.

“Thank you so much, Tora. You’re a lifesaver. Here, I wrote out all the instructions.”

He blinked at the piece of stationary she offered him. The top was decorated with sparkles and unicorns.

“…’kay.” He put the paper next to the cage so he could find it easily.

“The food is in that bin. And the key is on the counter.”

“I know what I want. For payment,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“…More than a kiss.” He winked.

There was a long pause. Her face flushed bright red.

“It’s only a few minutes of work each day,” Poppy muttered.

“Plus driving. Plus all ya stairs.”

“It’s not that many stairs!”

“And I’ll take in ya mail.”

“Some friend _you_ are,” Poppy muttered darkly.

“Everything has a price.” He grinned at her. “Besides, a little late to find someone else, huh?”

“Extortionist,” Poppy said.

“Well?” Tora asked, jamming his hands into his pockets.

“…how _much_ more than kiss?”

“Sleep with me.”

“I’m not… I’ve never…” she hugged herself and looked away. He felt a moment of remorse. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. Maybe he was pushing too hard, but fuck if he was going to babysit an actual hamster for nothing.

“Fine. You suggest something,” he offered.

“Um. More than a kiss, but less than… _that_.”

She still wasn’t meeting his eyes. He peered down at her, then away.

“If you’d rather just make me dinner, that’s fine,” he muttered after a moment, heat coloring the top of his cheekbones. He knew what _he_ wanted, but this felt too much like forcing her. Shit, after the way she’d grabbed him, he was hoping she’d be into the idea.

Her phone went off then. She grabbed it, her face still bright red, and answered.

“Hey. Jacob? I’ll be right down.” Poppy hung up and cleared her throat. She took a deep breath. Tora watched as she sidled over to her bags. She tossed the backpack over her shoulder and finally looked at him.

“Third base, _and_ you water my plants Sunday.”

“'Third base?' What are you, twelve?” What fucking adult used metaphors for sex acts?

But she ran out the door and slammed it behind her, leaving him in the middle of the room, not entirely sure what the hell had just happened. He couldn't remember whether third was hands or mouths, but either way he was getting a bargain.

After all, how hard could taking care of a hamster be?


	2. Privacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading :)

Had he honestly just traded a weekend of chores to get her naked? Fuck, he would have gladly done a lot more than feed her hamster and take in her mail.

Tora shook his head at his own folly. _You’re going weak_ , he told himself. _Some thug you are. Legendary Tiger of Ares Street, pet sitter._ Time was he wouldn’t have let a woman get to him like this. Apparently, all it took now was a peck on the lips and he was done for.

Tora stood in the middle of the room a moment longer, wondering if he was supposed to leave when Poppy did. Being alone in her place was weird. Her presence was everywhere, but she was missing. Still, it was nice. The plants, the windows. Peaceful.

 _Peaceful_? Since when was that a word he used?

He was so hungry his stomach felt like it was turning inside out. With one last glance at Sake the hamster, he locked Poppy’s door and left the complex.

There was a little takeout place he liked in the neighborhood with all the cats. He stopped in a corner store for cigarettes first, then on to food. He ordered and browsed on his phone while they made his meal.

“Is this place good? Have you eaten here before?” someone said to him. Tora glanced sidelong at the woman twirling her hair on her finger. She fluttered her eyelashes at him. Across the small room two other women were whispering and watching. Her friends, probably.

“Uh-huh,” he said, and went back to his phone.

“I just moved here. You look like you probably know all _kinds_ of great places.”

“You want my number or something?”

“Oh, that would be great,” she squealed.

He punched the sausage shop’s number into her phone and tossed it back. She started to say something else, but they were calling his name. He ignored her, grabbed the food, and left.

\---

He turned on the news and ate sitting on his couch. A two second mention of the mysterious sniper the week before made him pause, but then they moved on to something else. The story would be forgotten before long, at least as far as the public was concerned. Among the clans it was a different matter.

He was restless. Death hung heavy over the future, drawing closer like the thunderhead of a coming storm.

War was on its way.

He turned off the TV and grabbed his guitar. Messed around for a couple minutes, playing bits and pieces of different songs. He frowned and twisted one of the tuning keys slightly, then hit the string again. Better.

_Poppy’s place_. The key was in his pocket.

He started another song, one he knew well, and maneuvered his fingers without having to think about it.

He didn’t have to feed the hamster until evening. There was no reason to go back. But the key was in his pocket, and she wasn’t home. Tempting.

He looped around and kept playing the same song.

Stopped abruptly. Stood up. Put the guitar back against the wall.

It was early afternoon when he walked through her doorway. No lights were on, but her place was still bright: that was the difference full windows made, compared to his half-subterranean shell of a ‘home.’

And it felt like a _home_ , whatever that was supposed to mean. Inviting. Warm. It was unlike anywhere else that Tora spent his time. His own place was like a concrete box. Vincent’s and Quincey’s were like heads or tails of the same coin: different directions, different patterns, but the same family and the same blood. Both refined, both elegant, but only one was home to the devil.

Gyu’s place was a mess, and full of tech but devoid of that feeling of _home_. Alice’s was the closest to Poppy’s; it had that same warmth, that same feeling of belonging and welcome. But Alice’s was serious and sober. There were no little bears on the shelf and no picture frame with heart-shaped cutouts. There sure as hell wasn’t a sign that said _WHY BE MOODY WHEN YOU CAN SHAKE YO BOOTY._

He snorted. She was such a weirdo. There were a lot of things about her place he didn’t understand, like why she had a whole shelf of books with the spines hidden. Was it supposed to look cool? One of the books wasn’t pushed flush back with the others. He tugged it out and looked at the title.

_The Secret Garden_ , Q.B. Noyouko.

No shit? That was hilarious. He snorted and shoved it back on the shelf. He grabbed another volume. It was an author he didn’t know, but he flipped through it. “ _…his throbbing member rubbed against…”_

His eyes widened. He put it back, grabbed another, and flipped through. “ _… trembling with desire, she…”_

Tora laughed while shoving it back onto the shelf.

 _Alright, Bobby._ So he wasn’t the dirty one, of the two of them. And her backwards books weren’t quirky or some weird decorating fad. She was just hiding her fucking porn.

That broke the ice, so to speak. He padded through her apartment, studying the trappings of her life with an unguarded curiosity.

In the bathroom he pawed through the medicine cabinet, ignoring the reprimand in his head that said, in Poppy’s voice, _everyone deserves their privacy_. There was nothing interesting in there anyways.

Her shower had a collection of bottles, scrubs, and soaps. He picked up a tube of shampoo, flipped the cap up, and sniffed. Tora’s back straightened.

Huh. It smelled like her, a little bit.

He sniffed it again. Yeah, that smelled like her. Nice.

Without thinking he dabbed a tiny bit of it on the back of his hand. Then he scowled at himself for doing so, and put the bottle back.

He strolled to her bedroom. Standing in the doorway, a feeling of wrongness started to build in his chest. This was going too far, wasn’t it? He moved to her dresser and put his hand on the top drawer, but Poppy’s voice in his head was finally loud enough to stop him. _Everyone deserves their privacy_.

If he had fallen so fucking low as to be creeping on what kind of underwear she owned, well, that was just sad. He was _already_ acting like a pathetic creep, but that was a whole different level. He didn’t have to go there. He didn’t want to live with the shame of _having_ gone there. Better to stop while he could.

Besides. In a couple of days, he’d see for himself.

He grabbed his phone and sat on her bed.

Tora typed _third base_ into a web search.

Fingering _or_ oral. Well, fuck, which one was it? He clicked on one link, then another. No answer. The sites either disagreed or said both. He wasn’t exactly going to text Bobby, _hey, how do I get to fuck ya_ , so he just closed the browser with a frustrated sigh.

 _Please be a blow job_. He really hoped it was a blow job. If she was only planning on jerking him off, maybe he could convince her to do more? Just make her a little flustered… or go down on her first… hell, if he got her begging for him, he could probably convince her of anything. Maybe she’d even let him fuck her, for real.

He was getting uncomfortably hard. But he wasn’t about to masturbate alone in her apartment. That would be weird, right? Too weird? With a loud exhale, he flopped backwards on her bed, legs still hanging off the side.

Hm. Comfy. Way better than a couch.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but at some point, he stopped scrolling through his phone. His eyelids became heavy. It had been a long time since Tora had gotten a really good night’s rest; it was hard, when paranoia was rational and the only thing keeping you alive. But the bed was so damn comfortable, and the apartment so peaceful. It _smelled_ nice. And nobody would find him here. So at last his eyes closed, his phone flat on his chest…

 _BEEP._ Tora woke up as it was getting dark. His phone vibrated against his torso, alerting him to a text message, then another. He blinked and held it up.

Vincent. An emergency?

Tora texted that it would take him thirty minutes, knowing the drive was only twenty. He felt pissed. Pissed he had to get off the bed. Pissed he had to leave the apartment. Pissed it was Vincent.

And shit, the hamster. He flipped on a light on his way to the living room and peered down at the instructions Poppy left. Her handwriting was curvy, just like her.

Sake was awake and rummaging around his bedding. Tora squatted down and stared at the little thing.

“So I’m your bodyguard for the weekend,” Tora said. The hamster stood up with its paws against the glass, whiskers trembling.

“Yeah, ya real cute,” Tora muttered, “but I know someone cuter.”

He took off the lid and reached in to grab the food dish and the water bottle.

He dumped out the old food and filled the dish again, measuring the scoop carefully. He emptied the water bottle in the kitchen and filled it back up. Sake ran over to investigate the fresh food. Tora watched with interest as he shoved seeds into his cheek pouch and scurried back to a hiding place.

He watched for another moment, but the hamster didn’t come back out. Tora turned out the light and left. Vincent was waiting for him.

In the car he lifted the back of his hand to his face for a moment. Despite a few hours passing, he could still faintly smell where he had dabbed her shampoo onto his skin.


	3. Cages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> props to those who saw this coming, haha. Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

Tora backed up into the alleyway. He stopped with his trunk right by the side door of the address Smithy sent.

His phone vibrated. He took a moment to check if it was more instructions, but it was just a text from Bobby. For a moment his thumb hovered over the screen, wondering what she’d texted. Then he tossed the phone into the side pocket of his car door without giving in to temptation.

Distraction was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

Tora turned off the car, popped the trunk, and slipped outside.

Vincent wanted to have a _conversation_ with the guy inside, which meant ‘don’t kill him yet.’ Tora approached the back door with a set of lock picks in his pocket. He’d be inside soon, whether or not the door was unlocked. The lack of windows was a mixed blessing. He didn’t know what he was walking into, but nobody could see him coming, either.

Fifteen minutes later, Tora grabbed the limp, wheezing body out of his trunk and half-carried, half-marched him into Vincent’s office.

Tora always wore an expressionless mask in front of Vincent. Tonight, he was especially careful to wipe all signs of feeling from his face. He knew this guy. This was a Balthuman guy. Might have been nice of Smithy to give him a fucking heads up on _that_ one, rather than letting Tora realize on the job that he’d been sent after one of their own.

He wanted to ask what the guy had done. One look at Vincent’s body language and he decided it didn’t matter. Tora could get away with a lot these days, but he’d learned every warning sign of his bosses’ temper at a young age. The calm smile on Vincent’s face meant nothing. It was just the layer of dirt over a landmine. One wrong step, and boom, blood and flesh everywhere.

He looked about half a second from exploding right now. So Tora said nothing, and kicked the poor guy on the floor once or twice, and finally went back out to his car.

Two blocks from Vincent’s a truck started driving close behind him. It followed him through one turn, then another.

“Fucking christ,” Tora muttered, his heart thumping. Maybe this was it. He reached into his glove box and took out a handgun, driving one handed.

He took a wrong turn on purpose, lengthening his route home. The truck followed until he got onto the highway, but when Tora drove slowly there, the truck changed lanes and accelerated past him out of view.

He took the next exit and drove towards home, putting the gun back away. It had just been another late-night driver headed who knew where.

When he got home, he paused in the doorway.

Had his place always been so cold, and gray, and bare? It had never bothered him before. Maybe he needed a house plant.

 _That’s fucking rich_ , Tora thought with a shake of his head. He just needed to shower and sleep. He didn’t need a plant. What the fuck would _he_ do with a plant?

He thought he’d wiped all the blood off his skin at Vincent’s, but a swirl of red slipping down the shower drain told him otherwise. He looked at the bar of soap. It was tinged pink. He turned the shower knob, until the water scalded hotter than he could bear, and scrubbed harder until every bit of filth was gone.

At last he was awake on the couch, the text from Bobby still unread. He flipped it open.

_Let me know how it's going. Thanks again!!_

Tora couldn’t say why that was disappointing. Just what had he expected her to say?

\---

Quincey texted early the next morning.

 _I’m stuck on this chapter. I need you._ And then, ten minutes later, _It says ‘read,’ don’t pretend you’re still asleep._

Tora grumbled but was soon on Quincey’s couch, eating a pear and listening to descriptions of a sword fight.

Would Poppy one day read the scene he was listening to? He’d only ever given feedback for Quincey’s sake. He’d never really thought about who would be reading it, or the fact that his feedback could actually make a difference.

“He should get injured,” Tora suggested at the end of one paragraph. “Not badly. Just enough to make ya worry.”

Quincey stopped reading and glanced at Tora out of the corner of his eye. It was the fourth helpful comment Tora had made that morning.

“Something happen, honey? You’re acting like you actually give a shit today.”

“Shut up and keep reading.”

Quincey paused to scribble a note in the margins. Tora took the opportunity to finally answer Poppy’s text.

_No problems. Having fun?_

Quincey cleared his throat and kept reading. A few minutes passed. Tora stared at his blank phone screen. Then:

_Mostly. Jacob is being a lot._

Why did it bug him so much to hear that guy’s name? She could have friends. She was allowed to have friends.

At last, Quincey got to the end of the chapter. Tora hit the gym hard, and then showered again. It was late afternoon now and he was starving. He needed to go out to get more food.

And feed Poppy’s hamster. He’d get something to eat and take it to her place.

He brought in her mail and glanced through it. Nothing but ads. He put it on her kitchen counter and sat in front of the hamster cage, pulling his takeout food out of the bag. Sake woke up and Tora ate while watching the little creature run in its wheel. 

He pulled out his phone. _What kind of hamster is he again?_

 _Syrian!_ Poppy texted back almost right away.

He looked them up, got halfway down the page he was reading, and snorted.

“... _aggressive, with the exception of mating, though females will occasionally attack the males after…”_ Pff. The memory of Poppy pulling his hood over his eyes and shoving him down the stairs made him grin. He took a screenshot of the page and sent it to her.

 _Should I be worried_? Tora texted.

Done with his own food, Tora swapped out Sake’s food and water. The hamster hopped out of his wheel, but ignored the fresh dish of seeds, nuts, and dried produce. Instead, he ran back and forth along the front panel of glass. Then he stopped at a corner and pawed frantically at the wall of the cage, as if trying to get out.

That was uncomfortable to watch. Tora didn’t like cages either.

“You want out, little bro? I get that,” he said quietly.

There was a clear hamster ball on the ground, next to the bin of food. He twisted off the top of it. With the sphere in one hand, he lifted the lid of the cage and reached inside.

He caught the hamster one-handed, wrapping his fist gently around Sake. The hamster struggled, but Tora lifted him out of the cage.

A few inches from the hamster ball, Sake chomped down on the sensitive skin between Tora’s thumb and forefinger. The pain wasn’t bad, but he hadn’t expected it, and flinched. His grip loosened slightly. Sake _jumped._

Fucking jumped. With those squat little legs.

Tora lunged after the small ball of fluff falling through the air. Mindful of how easy it would be to crush the little thing, he caught the animal in the palm of his hand rather than in a grab. But that was a mistake. Sake pushed off and kept going. All Tora had managed to do was break the fall, not recapture the animal.

Sake landed on the wooden floor and booked it under the shelf. Tora bent over and was trying to locate him when a blur of motion to his right indicated that the hamster was making a run across the living room. Tora dove after him in a flash, but not fast enough to grab him before he entered the kitchen.

The last he saw of Sake was the hind-half of the little creature squeezing under the fridge.

“ _Fuck_.”


	4. Uncle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much fun to write, y'all. I hope it's enjoyable to read, too xD

Shit. Tora was always ready to be back-stabbed, but he had not expected it from the tiny rodent.

He lay down flat on the floor and turned on his phone flashlight. Sweeping the beam along the underbelly of the fridge, the light reflected back a pair of beady red eyes.

“Got ya, fucker.”

His phone vibrated in his hand. Text from Bobby.

_I don’t know, you’ll have to wait and see…_

What? Oh, right, the screenshot about mating hamsters. He turned off the flashlight and stared at the message for a moment.

_I’ll just have to make you too tired to wrestle,_ he texted.

Okay. He could handle one lost hamster. After all, Tora tracked down people all the time. How different could this be?

Well, very. He wasn’t about to take out Sake with a sniper rifle and he couldn’t exactly go on a chase under the fridge. But there were some things he could do. First, block off the exits. Tora stood in a fast, fluid motion and pulled the kitchen door shut.

How heavy was a fridge? It looked big. It couldn’t be that bad, right? A quick search online told him something like 200 pounds. Well, he could bench that easily. The shape and placement of the fridge meant it would be a lot more difficult, but he could do that.

But what if he crushed Sake? He couldn’t pick up the fridge _and_ grab him. And if he didn’t run out from underneath, Tora might squash him when he put the fridge back down. Telling Poppy that he had flattened her hamster would be a hell of a lot worse than telling her he’d escaped.

Bait. He needed to trick that little fucker out from underneath. Tora turned to her cabinets and started to rummage.

Holy fucking hell, how much junk food could one tiny woman eat? Didn’t she care at all about her health? Who needed five types of cookies, and toaster pastries, and chips, and a whole cabinet full of candy? Didn’t she know this shit was bad for her?

Oh, strawberry fruit leather? He picked up the box and glanced at the nutritional label. Interesting. He had never tried that. Tora put it on the counter instead of back on the shelf. He pushed aside a few more boxes and grabbed a jar of peanut butter. That seemed like something a hamster would like. He found a box of crackers, and went through her drawers until he found the silverware. He smeared the peanut butter on the cracker and set it down an inch from the edge of the fridge.

He settled down to wait and watch.

Tora knew exactly when an hour had passed, because he checked his phone about every two minutes. Poppy didn’t text back, and Sake made no appearance. Tora allowed himself the use the flashlight on his phone a few more times, always confirming that the hamster was still under the appliance.

He typed out: _I’m going to fix it but he got out of the cage_ , then quickly mashed the backspace until the message was gone. He couldn’t tell Poppy. She could never know.

She had trusted Tora with this. Asked him to help her. It wasn’t just about getting paid. Well, he _did_ want to get paid. But more than that, he didn’t want to let her down or lose her trust, even if he didn’t deserve to have it in the first place.

Now an hour and five minutes had passed. He wasn’t going to make it through the entire night. He didn’t technically need to resolve this before Monday, but he wasn’t going to be able to relax until it was dealt with. He wanted a solution now.

If Sake wouldn’t come out, that meant moving the fridge.

Moving the fridge meant needing help.

 _Fuck,_ he was going to need help.

But he couldn’t call just anybody about this.

\---

Gyu wasn’t answering his phone. Tora called once, texted, called again. Didn’t Gyu know he had to answer when Tora called? With a scowl, Tora found the number for Black Swan Bar & Bistro.

“Black Swan Bar & Bistro. This is Aleica, how may I help you?”

“…is Gyu working?” Tora knew his own name would get him right through, but he did not want anybody asking questions.

“I’m sorry, may I ask who’s calling?”

“His… uncle. Family emergency. I can’t reach him.”

“One moment, please.”

Three minutes later, Gyu’s voice appeared.

“Uncle? Hello? Is--” Gyu’s voice was worried.

“Ronzo. I need ya to call out.”

“…you’re kidding, bro. We’re in the middle of a rush.”

“I need help with something.”

“Dude. I cannot lose _another_ job. Are you hurt? Is someone hurt?”

“I’ll pay you.”

“…do you have any idea how much I make here on a Saturday?”

“I _said_ I’ll pay you.”

“Is this a life or death situation?”

“Yes. Or, no. Nope. It is not.”

“…so I’m going to go ahead and wait until… _after_ my shift on this one…”

“Fuck, Ronzo. Said I need help.”

“I’ll call you when I’m done, _Uncle._ ”

The line went dead.

\---

For the next few hours, Tora sat on the kitchen floor and stared at the base of the fridge. Good thing he was used to waiting and watching. He was as focused now as he’d ever been on a sniper job. He reached up behind him for the box of fruit leather, took out a second one, and slowly unwrapped it. His eyes didn’t leave the fridge.

He could not afford to lose Sake. If that little shit came out from under the fridge, Tora would be on him in an instant. But apart from the occasional rustling noise, there was nothing. The peanut butter cracker remained untouched.

Just after 2 am, Gyu texted that he was at the door. Tora closed the kitchen door behind him when he went to let Gyu in. He blocked the front doorway with his body, looking down at Gyu. The shorter man was still wearing his work clothes, black pants and a white button down. He’d taken off the name tag.

“When I say I need ya help, I need ya help,” Tora lectured.

“Sorry, bro, but I can’t keep losing my jobs. I’m here now.”

“Listen. Whatever you see here tonight, you keep ya damn mouth shut.”

Gyu gulped.

“Um, big bro. There’s not a body in there, is there?”

“Just come in.” Tora moved aside and Gyu gingerly entered the apartment, then blinked looking around.

“Wait, is this that chick’s place? Shit, big bro, what are you doing here?” Gyu looked concerned and pale. “You didn’t… I mean, is she…” He waved a hand over his neck to gesture for dead.

“Fuck, Ronzo. Seriously? No. She’s not here.”

“Okay. Then what…”

“I’m pet sitting. Her hamster escaped. We gotta catch it.”

Gyu froze and stared at Tora, his eyes slowly widening.

“This… is what you wanted me…. To leave my shift for?”

“Just come on. Shut ya fuckin’ mouth.”

“I didn’t know you pet sat. Will you pet sit for me sometime?” Gyu asked, following Tora to the kitchen door.

“Fuck no,” Tora grumbled. He shoved the sliding door open in time to see Sake munching happily on the peanut butter.

Tora pounced, but the hamster was already back under the fridge.

“Goddamned fucker,” Tora growled. “Close the door, Gyu.”

“You weren’t kidding,” Gyu muttered. He’d still half-expected to find blood everywhere. He slid the door shut.

Tora crouched down and peered under the fridge again, then experimentally put his fingers under the lip to feel for a good grip. He turned over his shoulder at Gyu.

“I’m gonna lift it and you’re gonna grab him. Let me know as soon as I can put it down.”

“You can’t lift a fridge. You’ll pull your back.”

“Watch me,” Tora scowled.

“Fine.”

“He bites. Be ready.”

“I am.”

With one hand under the front of the fridge and one hand under a side, Tora straightened his back. He took a breath, bounced on the balls of his feet, and pulled _up_ with a grunt.

Fuck. Heavy as hell. Gripping a bar with that much weight was nothing for him; he’d been working out for ages. But with a fridge, the weight was totally off balance. He hauled it three feet off the ground and pushed back against the wall, pinning it there to take some of the pressure off his smarting fingertips.

There was a cacophony of noises from inside the fridge. _Clink. Clank…_ shattering glass. Fuck. What was this, amateur hour? Why the hell hadn’t he emptied the fridge, or at least taken a picture of how it was set up?

“I got… Oh shit!” he heard Gyu say, but with his cheek pressed against the fridge, Tora couldn’t see what was happening.


	5. Mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tora, elite killing machine: 0  
> Sake, small fluff ball: 1  
> Thanks for reading, y'all <3

“Got him?” Tora asked.

“No, he bit me,” Gyu said.

“Christ, Gyu, I _told_ ya he bites.” Tora’s voice was strained. His arms were starting to feel a burn from the fridge.

“Yeah, well, it _hurt._ ”

“Some fucking thug _you_ are. He back under the fridge?”

“No. I’ve got him pinned.”

“Were ya just gonna leave me hanging?” Tora muttered.

Tora lowered it slowly. Nonetheless, a second round of crashes and clinks rang out. Tora flexed his sore fingers as he turned towards Gyu.

The smaller man was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, his arms out like a goalie trying to stop a ball from getting past. He had backed Sake into a corner. After a moment of tense stand-off, Gyu’s right hand shot forwards.

Sake was ready, and zipped around the incoming hand, short legs pumping his way to freedom.

Or not, because Tora was sure as hell not going to let him back under the fridge.

Tora lunged. This time, his hand closed around the target, plucking Sake up into the air. Tora clasped both his hands together, holding Sake inside a tight bubble of fingers and palms with no escape route available. He could feel the little head butting against his grip. A set of tiny teeth clamped onto one of his fingers. He didn’t flinch.

“Open the door,” Tora said to Gyu.

Gyu hurried to obey. Tora strode past him into the living room. He unceremoniously dumped Sake back into the cage and secured the lid.

Tora glanced at his hand; a dot of blood swelled where the hamster had most recently bit him. “Asshole,” Tora muttered. Gyu padded into place at Tora’s side.

Both guys stood and stared at the cage. Sake nonchalantly began to dig through his food bowl, gathering his favorite bits.

“Unbelievable,” Tora said.

“Big bro, I gotta ask…” Gyu started.

“No, you don’t.” No good question started that way.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

Tora glared at Gyu. Gyu stared flatly back, then chuckled.

“Fine, keep your business to yourself. _Uncle._ ”

“Fuck off,” Tora muttered, but he smirked.

“So, this was really fun and all, but I’ve been working for, like, fourteen hours now. Are we done?”

“Yeah, you can get outta here.”

“You aren’t coming?” Gyu asked.

“Gotta clean up.”

“…Need help?” Gyu asked, a note of reluctance in his voice.

“Nah. Get some rest, Ronzo.”

“Alright.”

“…And thanks for coming. Fuckin’ _hours_ after I asked you to.” Tora muttered.

“Anytime, bro,” Gyu said with a shit-eating grin, and left.

After locking the front door, Tora sighed and went back to the kitchen. He tossed the fruit leather wrappers and the cracker into the trash can, and quickly washed the knife he’d used for the peanut butter.

Then all that was left was the damn fridge. It poked out at a slight angle. He straightened it against the wall, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

A tupperware tumbled off a shelf. Tora blocked it with his foot and slowly put it back while staring at the mess.

A bottle of marinade had broken, leaving glass and a dark, thick sauce along the lowest shelf. It had splattered on some of the containers, too; the plastic ones would be easy to wipe off, but he noted two grocery store jars with paper labels that would be stained even if he cleaned them carefully.

Below the shelf were crisping drawers, and the sauce was slowly dripping into one of these, onto a bag of wilted celery and an open, half-depleted bag of carrots.

On the top shelf, a piece of delicate opera cake in a plastic container looked like it had been violently shaken and smushed. Nothing else looked broken, but the entirety of the fridge seemed to be on its side and pushed up against the left wall.

Great.

“Can ya watch my hamster, Tora? It’s barely any work, Tora,” he muttered to himself. “Better fucking be worth it. Goddamn.”

He closed the door and stood for a moment gripping the door handle. It was late, and he was tired. If he waited too long, that sauce was going to dry out and get tacky. He’d have to scrub it to get the fridge clean. And he’d have to go to the store to get a new bottle. He could pay attention to how much he wiped out of the fridge to figure out how much Poppy had already used.

He could get new versions of the stained products, too, and empty them just enough to match what was left in the fridge. He sent a silent prayer that he could find the same products without having to visit a half dozen stores.

But regardless, he wasn’t going to be able to put everything back just where it had been. He could probably figure out some of it with physics and common sense, but he hadn’t seen how it was set up before he made a mess of it.

Was Poppy observant enough to notice?

He went out to her balcony to smoke a cigarette, needing a second before the cleaning began. Earthquake? Could he say there was an earthquake? _Yeah, it didn’t make the news and it only fucked up ya fridge._ Could he say he got really hungry?

And did what, reorganized all her food?

Or maybe he could fill her fridge up with new stuff and pretend like he was just being a nice guy. Would that seem creepy? Yeah, that was probably creepy. Which was worse? Clingy I-bought-you-groceries creepy, or I-reorganized-your-fridge-don’t-ask-why creepy? Was it better or worse to just tell her the truth at this point?

He rolled up his sleeves, lit cigarette dangling from his lips. Even though it was summer, night and the height of the apartment made the air crisp, giving him a breath of clarity against the mess of the evening.

Clean the fridge tonight, shop and decide what to tell her tomorrow. _And_ water her damned plants. Alright. One thing at a time.

His roaming eyes lit on his car, parked on the street below. The apartment lot was nearly empty. It was so quiet here.

His eyes flickered to the left, behind his car. Stopped. 

Parked three spots behind his car was a truck. One edge of the vehicle protruded into a pool of streetlight, giving Tora just enough information to place it. A beige Toyota, at least ten years old.

It was the same color and model as the truck he had noticed behind him when he left Vincent’s.

Coincidence? Yeah, maybe. It could be. But in the mafia, you didn’t live very long going off the benefit of the doubt. You _had_ to be suspicious. Better safe than sorry.

The truck had not been there in late afternoon when he parked. He was sure. If somebody was gonna follow him, did it _have_ to be to Poppy’s place? Fuck. Why couldn’t this have happened on any other weekend? At least she wasn’t home.

Tora put out his cigarette and backed into the apartment, locking the balcony door behind him.


	6. Sunday To-Do List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this one is a little gory and dark, though hopefully... still funny? No? Maybe? Yes? Let me know what you think.

“—just keep an eye behind ya and don’t go straight home,” Tora finished, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Got it, big bro. I don’t see anyone, though,” Gyu said.

“Good. Anything happens, let me know.”

“I will.”

Tora hung up. He sure as shit hoped that Gyu wasn’t being tailed, too. It seemed unlikely; probably the truck was the only threat. Gyu wasn’t as well known or as hated as Tora, either; he might have just looked like a normal guy.

Coming and going to a near-empty apartment building at an ungodly early hour of the morning. Right. Just like normal guys did.

Tora shook his head. No sense worrying in what he couldn’t control. He had to deal with the truck, not fret over Gyu.

He left the apartment building through a back entrance that would not be visible to the truck. Tora kept to the shadows as he worked his way around the building and onto the street.

He approached the truck from behind, his sweatshirt hood up. Tora paused a dozen feet behind the vehicle, hiding just out of the reach of a streetlamp's beam. His dark clothes helped to disguise his large form.

Two guys were sitting in the front of the truck. The driver was a fucking idiot. He was just smoking with the window down, all the way down. Tora wouldn’t even have to break glass to get to them. Did they really feel that safe, tailing _him?_

He inched closer to the truck and confirmed what he’d suspected. Not that he’d had any doubts when he saw the truck was occupied, but these were Ares street guys. He didn’t know them personally; they weren’t Balthuman. Still. No coincidence: they were definitely here for him.

That wasn’t the really bad news, though. The bad news was that he was going to have to kill them. If they weren’t outside Poppy’s place, he could have _tried_ just roughing them up, getting some information about _why_ they were following him, discouraging them— _emphatically—_ from bothering him again.

But now, they were a liability. They knew there was something, or someone, of interest in the apartment building. _Fucking please, please make ‘em too dumb to have let anyone know yet._ _Let me be able to end this, now, for good._

The street was empty. The surrounding windows were dark and silent.

Tora moved with a speed few, if any, other men could match. He materialized out of the shadows and into the pool of streetlight like a ghost bursting through a wall. The driver only had time to yelp, not to get his window up. Tora smashed his fist into the guy’s temple, knocking him out instantly with an unpleasant crunch. He popped up the lock on the door and yanked it open, then surged over the unconscious driver. The passenger was getting a gun up from where it had been hidden beneath his seat. Before the passenger could get a finger on the trigger, Tora twisted the weapon out of his grip and crushed the guy’s windpipe with a single hand. The passenger slouched forward, collapsing limply against the dash.

Alright. Fuck.

He checked both men. The passenger was dead; the driver not quite yet. He wouldn’t live, but there was mercy in a quick kill.

Tora hit him again, once, hard enough to do the trick. That got blood on his hands, damnit.

He leaned the passenger seat back, and leaned back the passenger, buckling his seatbelt.

Looked like he was sleeping, now. Sort of?

The driver, he shoved down as best as he could out of view of the window. His top half fit on the floor in front of the passenger, but his legs kept touching Tora’s. There wasn’t enough space to bend them out of the way without having them be visible through the window.

“Fuck my job, fuck my life,” Tora muttered. He took the driver’s seat and adjusted it back to accommodate his long legs, with the added benefit that he could stop brushing legs with the corpse.

The key was already in the ignition. He turned it, flipped on the truck’s lights, and began to drive. He needed to get the bodies as far from Poppy’s as he could before he dealt with them further.

“I’m never pet sitting again,” Tora muttered to himself. Fucking load of shit _this_ weekend was turning out to be. It was quiet, too quiet; he was driving away from the city, avoiding any road that might be populated even at this early hour.

He needed to relax. Things like this just didn’t go as well if you were nervous. Music would help. He turned on the truck radio, his other hand gripping the steering wheel too tightly.

Bad pop music bopped out of the radio. Tora frowned and flipped to another station. Boring talk show. Flipped again. Some religious lecture about sin and hellfire. Hah. Flipped again. Weird, beeping electronic music. _Flipped again_. A siren blared, jerking his eyes up to the rear-view mirror, but then it morphed into a beat behind a rap song. He cursed at the radio, at the artist.

“Who the _fuck_ thought that was a good idea?” But the song itself wasn’t bad, once it got going, so he left it and drove a little faster, ready to be done.

At last he was just outside the city and turned onto a seldom-used road that curved through a wooded park. Somebody would probably drive down it the next day, but the odds of another late-night (early morning?) driver appearing were slim to none, and there was a stream in the park he could use to wash up.

He parked the car and scratched his head for a moment, sighing. He hated this part. But better to get this over with. Tora began to go through both corpse’s pockets, starting with the one buckled upright. Cellphone, ID. He tried to unlock the phone with the corpse’s thumb. _Fingerprint not recognized_. He tried a different angle. _Fingerprint not recognized._ Another angle. _Fingerprint not—_ the index finger. _Fingerprint not recognized_. The other index finger? _Not recognized._ A different angle? _Too many attempts. Try again later._

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Had the corpse been dead too long? It had only been half an hour, or so. Probably the sensor was just being finicky.

Tora’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

Please don’t be Gyu. Please don’t be Gyu saying something was wrong.

Quincey was calling. It was almost 4 am.

“Quince,” Tora said, taking the call. “What’s going on? Why are you up?”

“Sorry if I… woke you up… honey,” It sounded like he’d been crying.

“I’m awake. What’s wrong?”

“Can you pick me up?”

Pick up Quincey? Tora blinked. He stared at the empty, dark, tree-covered road in front of him, rap quietly playing over the serenade of crickets and cicadas. He turned his head slowly and looked at the bodies.

Yeah, nope. He sure as hell wasn’t taking this fucking murder-truck back into the city, not unless Quincey had a real emergency. Even if he took the bodies out first.

“Uh, not right now.”

“Please, Tora?”

“What’s going on? Ya okay?”

“I… the guy I was dating just… broke things off with me, and…I’m at his place…”

“But you’re safe?” Tora rubbed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Tora, please, just…”

“I can’t, Quince. Physically can’t.”

“…where are you?”

“…working. And I gotta go. Just take a cab.”

“Well, can you…” sniffle, sniffle. “…come over later and keep me company?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Tora hung up.

He hauled up the second body from the truck floor and went through its pockets, too. Phone, ID, cigarettes. Ugh, shitty, light cigarettes. Whatever, no sense wasting them.

He again tried to unlock the phone with the corpse's fingers, but was out of luck again. The fingerprint sensor on this phone just wasn’t set up. He was going to need Gyu to hack into the phones tomorrow so Tora could try to figure out what was going on, or at least get a lead of who he needed to question.

He turned both phones off so that, if somebody was tracking the GPS, the signal would end at this spot in the woods rather than following Tora wherever he went next.

Tora used his lighter to start a fire in the truck. The blaze built quickly as he stomped off the road and down a small wooded hill, battling through underbrush to reach the river. He scrubbed his hands free of blood in the water and rinsed his face as well. Back up the hill. The truck was a full-on inferno by now. He glanced at the nearest branches overhead and hoped he wasn’t about to start a forest fire. He didn’t think so. The gap was tall enough.

By the light of the fire, Tora inspected himself for blood.

There was a damp spot on his sweatshirt that was probably blood, but against the black fabric nobody would notice. He’d get rid of it when he got home.

And fuck, it was going to be a long. Damn. Walk. Home.

“Didn’t need sleep anyways,” Tora muttered to himself. Maybe he could get someone to pick him up when he got closer to the city, but he wasn’t going to call anyone just yet. He wanted to get at least a few miles away from the crime scene first.

After all, Tora still didn’t know who sent the guys to follow him. The only people he _really_ trusted right now were Gyu and Quincey. Gyu was probably passed out cold, and Quincey was in no state to go driving into the middle of the wood to pick up his bodyguard from a double homicide.

Tora lit a cigarette and started to make his way back towards the city on foot. He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Gyu: _call soon as you’re awake, urgent._

Sunday to-do list: walk all the fucking way back to Narin city, clean out a fridge, buy some groceries, comfort the princess, get the phones unlocked, figure out why he was being followed, water Poppy’s plants, feed Poppy’s hamster, maybe sleep, make sure nobody was going to come sniffing around Poppy, figure out what to tell her.

He kept walking. As sunrise inched closer, sweet birdsong joined the chorus of bugs, welcoming the coming day. The horizon was just tinging purple and grey. Tora scowled and kept putting one foot in front of the other, to all appearances unimpressed by the beauty around him.


	7. A good cry

Tora shifted all his grocery bags into one hand, then unlocked the door to Quincey’s condo. He went straight to the kitchen and began to unload his purchases.

“You bought me carrots?” Quincey asked, confused, appearing behind Tora.

“No. Ya stuff is on the counter.” Tora didn’t turn around. He was busy making space on a shelf in Quincey’s fridge to store Poppy’s replacements.

A pint of coffee chip ice cream and a bottle of Pinotage wine sat off to one side. Quincey shuffled over. It was barely noon. He stared morosely at both.

Tora, who had finished unpacking, looked at him. Failed romance had the effect of turning Quincey into a wet blanket of a human.

“ _Tch_ ,” Tora said. He grabbed a wine glass and a bottle opener, then dumped a hefty amount of red wine into the glass. Next, he grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer and opened the ice cream container. He stuck the spoon in at an angle and handed it to Quincey, who accepted it mutely. It was an old routine. They had done this many times before.

Wine in one hand and ice cream in the other, Quincey shuffled over to the couch and sat slowly. Tora joined him.

For a few minutes neither said a word. Tora leaned his head onto one of his fists and closed his eyes. He was only running on a few hours of sleep, but a litany of worries kept him from drifting off.

A few hours ago, he’d woken up to Gyu calling him and had immediately gone to have the phones unlocked.

The good news was that there was no tracking software in the phones, and no messages about Tora’s location. No calls had happened in the few hours before he’d noticed the truck.

It didn’t mean they hadn’t communicated with others, of course. Messages could be deleted, or they could have seen him going to Poppy’s a different day. But it was something. There was a chance her home was safe.

It seemed the men worked for someone outside Balthuman. However, they’d been following him in hopes of finding the notebook. That might mean a rat. How else would somebody outside Balthuman know that Tora had been the one looking for it? He was sure nobody else had been in Moonbright the day he met Poppy.

Did he need to tell Vincent? The old man had just decided the notebook _didn’t_ exist, which was how Tora liked it. He didn’t want to open that can of worms again. But if there was a rat…

“I will never love again,” Quincey said, interrupting Tora’s thoughts.

Tora picked his head up slowly, blinking, and turned towards the writer.

“You said that last time,” Tora reminded him.

“I mean it.”

“No, you don’t. You never do.”

“Romance is pointless,” Quincey said. “I’m done with it.”

“Sure you are,” Tora muttered.

“I’ll write murder mysteries. Or nonfiction.” Quincey put down the wine glass and attacked the pint of ice cream. “And nobody w—wi—will get a ha-happy ending.”

Tora sighed. He shifted over on the couch until he could put an arm around Quincey. Quincey sniffled and leaned into Tora’s broad chest.

“You’ll get over it,” Tora told him bluntly.

“Not this time.”

“Huh,” Tora snorted. “If he was such a big deal, how come I never heard of him ‘till he kicked your ass to the curb?”

“First off, it was mutual.”

“Christ, then why ya so sad?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Quincey said moodily. “Just because you _want_ somebody doesn’t mean they’re _right_ for you.”

…But couldn’t Tora understand that? He turned away from Quincey, staring at nothing as the memory of Poppy tugging him down for their one and only kiss flooded his mind. They were wrong for each other in every way.

“Want some?” Quincey broke the silence by offered a full spoon of ice cream to Tora.

“Fuck no, get that shit outta my face.”

A moment more of silence. Then:

“If you really like him, doesn’t matter if he’s right for you. Shoulda stuck it out.”

Quincey glanced in surprise up at Tora, who was still looking away from him. A faint blush colored Tora’s cheekbones.

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Quincey said, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Just eat your ice cream, princess,” Tora grumbled.

\---

An hour later. The bottle of wine was half-empty. So was the pint of ice cream, which sat abandoned and melted on the coffee table in front of Quincey.

Tora’s eyes were closed. He drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally awoken by a sudden noise from the sad movie Quincey was watching. Quincey’s explanation, that he needed to ‘have a good cry,’ was not one that Tora understood.

Tora’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes cracked open again, and he fumbled for it. Message from Bobby. Blinking at the screen, he opened the text.

_Hey I’m coming home early. I know it’s late notice but can you be there 3ish?_

The fuck. She was kidding, right?

Another message rolled in while he was still staring at the first.

_If not I can ask my friend w the spare_

He typed back: _nah I got it, see you then._

“Quince. I gotta go.”

“Why? Don’t.”

“Gotta.” Tora stood up, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He went to the fridge and grabbed everything for Poppy’s apartment, then paused, looking into the living room.

Quincey lay on the couch like a deflated balloon, staring listlessly at the TV screen. Tora gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose, then strode over. He hesitated for a moment, then put a hand on Quincey’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

Quincey looked up at him, his eyes wet with tears.

“You’re gonna be okay. You’ll find someone better.”

Then Tora was gone, out the door and jogging to his car. _Fuck_. Two hours. She couldn’t have given him more notice than two hours? One and a half, by the time he got to her apartment? _God damned mother fucking shitty ass luck…._

The sauce had hardened, and he had to scrape and soak and scrub it off the shelf and out of the drawer. One by one he matched up the new items with the old. He opened a jar of newly bought pickles and tossed a quarter of them. Ripped open the bag of carrots and threw out three. The celery was a problem. He couldn’t make it wilt. He tried washing the sauce off the old bag and actually did an alright job, so the new one went unopened into the trash. He spread everything out on the shelves, and at the last moment remembered to straighten everything in her freezer, too.

There was no saving the opera cake, so he had bought her a slice of a chocolate cake and was already planning to tell her he’d eaten hers as a late-night snack.

Tora looked at the rest of his handiwork. Would she notice? Could he wait and see if she noticed, or better to tell her up front?

2:31 pm.

He did an internet search for _how to water plants_ , which was useless for his purposes. More than he needed or cared to know.

“Can’t be hard,” Tora told himself. He found and filled a watering can and started with the balcony, giving each one a few seconds of rain. He hoped it was enough, and not too much. Tora circled the apartment looking for other plants. He had to pause once to refill the can, and a second time to wipe up water that he spilled.

2:39 pm.

He tied up the kitchen trash bag and hauled it out of its container, then put a new one in. Tora locked the door behind him and trotted down the steps to the outside dumpster.

2:42 pm. His phone buzzed as he reached the bottom of the steps.

Trash bag still in hand, he grabbed for it. Bobby.

_Just got back. No rush, it’s so nice out!!_

He looked up and froze. She was there, twenty feet in front of him, wearing both backpack and messenger bag, her hair loose around her shoulders. Poppy lowered her cell phone and stared back at him.


	8. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading! Let me know what you think :)

Poppy stared at him for a moment. Tora stared back. They were both still holding their phones. He was still holding the bag of trash. Her eyes bore into him, measuring him. Her mouth was a flat, serious line.

“…Should I ask what you’re doing?”

Tora looked down at the trash bag.

“Cleaning....”

“…cleaning _what_?”

Tora had spent hours wondering what to tell her, and how to cover it up. Hours worried what she would say, that she would be disappointed by him, that she might try to go back on their deal or explode on him for having made a mistake.

But this was Poppy, not Vincent; a mistake with one wasn’t _like_ a mistake with the other.

Besides, Tora didn’t _want_ to lie to her. There were enough secrets and unspoken things between them. He was too tired to add another.

“…your fridge,” he said. “Sorry. I made a mess. Trying to get it clean before ya got home. Just finished.” He put away his phone and reached into the other pocket to get her key. Walking to her, Tora offered it; Poppy reached out a hand to take it.

He turned away and walked to the dumpster, not looking back at her. But after he’d tossed the trash bag through the opening and turned around, Poppy was still standing in the same spot, the key still in her outstretched hand. He braced himself, still unsure what sort of reaction was coming, but fully expecting it to be bad.

“How’d you make a mess?” Poppy asked.

“Your fuckin’ hamster got out and hid under the fridge. I had to pick it up to get him out.”

“…you picked up my fridge?”

“Uh-huh. Forgot to take everything out first, though.”

Poppy giggled, her tense expression relaxing. He felt his own melt away in response.

“What are you, superman? Regular people don’t just go around lifting fridges, Tora.”

“You aren’t mad he got out?”

“Pfft. Please, he gets out every other day. That little dude is an escape artist.”

“…you didn’t think to tell me that?” Tora said dryly, but all he felt was relief. _Not mad_. So he hadn’t fucked things up between them—and he’d still get paid?

Trying to figure out how to keep her safe, if somebody _was_ staking out her apartment, would be that much less difficult if she still trusted him.

Anticlimactic. He was _fine_ with anticlimactic.

Well… he hoped there would be a climax. Just not the argument kind.

“I _told_ you to let me know if you had problems,” Poppy said. She started to walk up the steps, then turned around. Tora was still standing by the dumpster.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Upstairs?” he asked.

“Unless you’re busy.”

He shook his head and followed. Definitely not busy. At least, not too busy for her.

He silently noted how nice a view it was, walking up the steps behind her. His mind was elsewhere, still mulling over her carefree response—had he really been agonizing over this for no reason--? But his eyes stayed glued to her backside, enjoying the sway of her hips and ass as she climbed the stairs, and wishing the view weren’t half-obscured by her backpack.

“Any other problems?” Poppy asked as she climbed.

 _…apart from killing two guys and burning their bodies in the woods?_ Tora thought with an inward sardonic smile.

“He bit me. Twice.”

“Oof. I’m sorry.”

She unlocked the door and dropped off her bags with a sigh.

“So how come you’re back early?” Tora asked, closing and locking her door for her.

“It’s supposed to storm really badly, all tonight and tomorrow. Jacob doesn’t like driving in the rain.”

“What a pussy,” Tora muttered.

“Sorry, are you complaining?” Poppy stretched, revealing a slice of her midriff as her shirt rode up.

Tora stared, and swallowed, and looked away.

“…Nope.”

She walked into the kitchen. He followed slowly, arriving in time to see her peering curiously into the fridge.

“What made a mess? It looks the same,” Poppy said.

Tora leaned against the doorway and smirked. So she never would have known, if he’d been a few minutes faster.

Then Poppy’s head tilted to the side. She lifted out the piece of chocolate cake and looked at him.

“Um, where’d this come from?”

“Couldn’t save the other one. Had to swap it.”

“Oh.” She put it back in the fridge, shook her head, and closed the door. “Thanks. But you definitely still owe me an opera cake.”

“I couldn’t find any.”

“I know a place that serves it. You can take me.”

“Yeah, alright.” He grinned, revealing his dimples. “Also, I watered your plants.”

“Already?” she looked at him wide-eyed.

“Sure. Couldn’t have you saying I didn’t do my part of the deal, even if ya home early.”

He was still leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. She still had her hand on the fridge. A good five feet lay between them.

Tora couldn’t help but consider stepping forward and just _taking_ her, but he waited and watched instead.

“Um, right,” Poppy said, blushing. She looked down at her feet, then up at Tora.

He uncrossed his arms and straightened as Poppy stepped towards him. Her face looked uncertain for a moment, then… determined? Tora felt his breathing turn shallow as his heart thumped in anticipation, and then she grabbed him and tugged his face down.

It mimicked their first kiss, but this time it was not so much of a shock for either of them.

Tora placed his hands against her hips and drew Poppy against him, leaning down to her as she stood on tip-toes against him. Their mouths met, searching. Tora’s mind fluttered and shut off, suddenly blank apart from her soft body against him.

Her chest crushed against his torso. The heat of her body pressed against his crotch, where blood began to gather. 

God. Fuck. The softness of her lips against his. Tora’s breath hitched and paused.

Poppy pulled away, her breath as interrupted as his, but neither let go of the other. Her hands were still buried in the neckline of his shirt, stretching the fabric. His hands were still clasped against her hips, wrapping around to her lower back and the alluring swell of her ass.

“You’re not gonna shove me down the stairs again, are ya?” He asked raggedly.

“Not this time,” she said, voice breathy.

“Poppylan…” Tora said. “Look. I want you. But you’re sure ya okay with this?”

“A deal’s a deal.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She released his shirt slowly and lowered herself from tip-toes down to her heels, dropping an inch. “Come on.”

She took one of his hands. He tried to remember if she ever had before; he’d always been the one to grab her hands. He followed her willingly to the bedroom, the front of his jeans tight and uncomfortable with anticipation.

In the bedroom, she tugged him forward and pushed him backwards onto the bed. He sat obediently on the edge of the mattress. Was he dreaming? Poppy met his eyes for a moment, then looked away in embarrassment.

She was so damned cute.

She came forward and straddled him, sitting on his lap.

“Is… this okay?” she squeaked.

Tora’s gaze softened at her. He wrapped his hands around her again, pulling her body against his. Her shorts-covered pussy crushed against his swollen, aching shaft. His opened mouth pressed against hers. He ran his teeth gently over her lower lip.

Poppy’s hips rocked, rubbing herself against his shaft. Tora groaned mid-kiss and tightened his hands on her ass, encouraging her to keep going. Poppy placed her hands on his broad shoulders.

“Poppy,” Tora murmured, his voice low and husky. “When you said third. What’s that mean?” He worked his fingertips up underneath her shirt as he asked, and slowly began to draw it up over her head. Poppy helped him. His lips parted as he caught sight of her full breasts spilling invitingly out of her bra. He slowly set her shirt aside and ran his hands over her curves.

“A, um. A handjob?” Poppy said, her voice breathy. She tugged up at Tora’s shirt; he helped. He didn’t notice her eyes widen as she took in his tattoos and muscular chest; he was too entranced by her shirtless form and the press of her body against his lap.

“Considering I got bit and had to clean ya fridge… can I get an upgrade?” Tora groaned.

“Uh-uh. You made that…” he squeezed one of her breasts. “ _Ahh_ …mess yourself. _And_ I’m home early.”

Tora leaned forward, brushing his lips against her neck and up to her ear.

“I can’t change your mind?” he whispered, one hand digging into her chest, the other squeezing her ass.

“You can _try_ ,” Poppy moaned. “But I doubt you can convince me.”


	9. Payment

In that moment, Tora could not have cared less about how bad the weekend had been.

Poppy was _shirtless_ and straddling him. His hands were on her, one on her ass and one on her chest. Hell, he had been dreaming about this since long before their deal. He’d been dreaming about this since long before he thought there was any chance of it happening.

She was his exact type, soft and curvy and beautiful. Even her attitude was attractive, and completely foreign to him. She was so positive, her life not burdened by all the fear and violence that defined his. He had never wanted someone so badly, and on so many levels.

_‘You can try?’_ He was used to women throwing themselves at him. Women who wanted his body, or wanted his protection, or wanted the thrill of being with someone like him. 

_‘I doubt you can convince me?’_

The fact that she was panting a little and rocking her hips against him argued otherwise. She was clearly attracted to him. Hell, of course she was. She had called him good looking. Kissed him. Agreed to this, _this_ , as payment for him feeding her hamster.

Tora felt confident. Oh, he would convince her. He would make her want him so bad she begged for him.

He’d tease her until she couldn’t take it anymore.

He unbuttoned her shorts with one dexterous hand. With a large thumb, he rubbed on top of her underwear for a moment, locating first the line of her opening and then her clit nestled just above it. Poppy’s head tilted back for a second as she bit her lower lip.

With his other hand, he cradled the back of her head and pulled it to him, pressing his mouth against hers.

Then he took his hand away from her crotch and unfastened her bra. Pulling it away from her, his lips parted slightly as he took in the sight of her unbound chest. Her areolas were large and pink. He pinched a nipple lightly. She seemed to like it, a small moan escaping her lips. He pinched harder, feeling it firm beneath him as Poppy squirmed against him.

He kneaded her breast with his whole hand. Large, soft. A groan escaped Tora’s lips. He was trying to tease _her,_ but his dick throbbed more urgently with every move he made.

Tora turned them both over, laying Poppy flat on her back on the bed. He pulled off her shorts and got on top of her, still wearing jeans. He kissed her, then moved over to one side so his hand could more easily access her pussy. Tora trailed his fingers over her cotton underwear and leaned over to wrap his lips around one of her nipples. He sucked on it as Poppy reached down to unbutton his jeans.

She tried to push them down his legs. He eagerly helped.

Then he was naked, his cock jumping free. A pulse of blood sent it bobbing up and down. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t remember his goal of teasing her. He needed to touch her. He pushed his hand under her panties, discovering her drenched opening with his fingertips.

She was tight but so welcoming and so wet that he just slid right in, frictionless. Poppy cried out as two of his large fingers pressed between her lips as deep as he could push them.

Tora couldn’t keep his eyes open. His mouth parted around his heavy breathing. His cock _ached_. And then Poppy wrapped her hands around it.

He tried to say _not yet,_ but why? Why didn’t he… he couldn’t think. Trying to tease her…?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. She stroked his shaft. Tora’s eyes opened to meet Poppy’s; she was watching him, her own eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He started pumping his fingers swiftly in and out of her. Her hands felt good on him, and she felt good on his hand. He grabbed at one of her breasts with the free one, and they both moaned as he squeezed.

God, she was hot. He couldn’t think straight.

Poppy stopped stroking him for a moment and pulled Tora’s hand out of her.

“Wha…” he started to say.

She pushed her panties off. She touched her clit for a moment, then dipped her fingers one by one inside herself. Tora’s eyes widened, and his fuzzy, half-functioning brain tried to memorize every detail of the sight.

She pulled her hand away, fingers glistening with her own wetness, and wrapped it around his cock. She started to stroke again, this time lubricated by her own juices.

“Fuck,” Tora groaned. “Oh, fuck, Poppy, yes.” His voice was barely a whisper; he was panting, could barely breathe. Tora rolled onto his back as first one of her hands, then both, stroked away at him. One of her fists paid special attention to his head as the other strummed up and down his shaft.

“Fuck,” Tora said again. Under his closed lids, his eyes rolled back slightly as his brain short-circuited.

Knowing only that he wanted to feel her, he reached for her waist. Tora worked his hand down to her slit and thrust his fingers back inside her. Before long, her hips were riding against his hand.

 _BOOM._ A clap of thunder reverberated through the room. They both jumped, then realized it was just bad weather.

They kept going as the room darkened and rain lashed against the windowpanes.

All he could do was pump his fingers in and out of her and try not to crumble under the pleasure her hands gave. Tora wanted to make _her_ beg, but he couldn’t even beg _her._ When he opened his mouth to plea for more, no sound came out.

“W…wait,” Tora finally managed to gasp as pleasure kept building. He teetered at the brink of an orgasm.

Poppy’s hands stopped moving immediately but stayed on him.

A moment passed. “Ease up,” he said once the signals from his impaired brain finally made it to his tongue.

“It doesn’t feel good?” Poppy asked, starting to withdraw her grip.

“Too good,” Tora said. “I was about to cum.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

“Yeah… but…” he pulled his fingers out of her and started rubbing at her clit instead. She fell back on the bed.

“Ung… aaah…” He watched her writhe on her back. Soft lips parted, eyes closed, wavy hair tangled around her. Hands clutching at his muscular arms now. _Fuck_ , she was pure sex, nothing but softness and curves, and… so wet, so tight. His body responded to every noise that came from her mouth.

He buried his face in her neck and closed his eyes. Tora tried to focus on _her_ pleasure, not on his, desperate to last so he could keep this going.

In that moment he wasn’t even thinking about her sucking him off or letting him fuck her (though good god—he wanted both, either, anything). He just needed to feel her climax against his hand, and hear her lose it.

Her cries grew louder and wilder. He drew his head back from her neck, and watched her hungrily.

Poppy’s hand closed around his cock again. Tora shuddered at how good the touch felt.

She was distracted and not attending to him as well as before. All Poppy could do was hold onto his thick cock as she cried out and writhed under his touch.

And then Tora couldn’t help it. His hips began to move, pushing himself in and out of her grip.

Poppy’s toes curled under her. Her back curved and her face twisted in either pleasure or a grimace. No noise came out of her now. For a moment she was frozen, arched up off the bed. Slowly her expression softened as she fell back down.

He kept stroking her clit slowly, but Poppy pushed his hand away after a moment of recovery. She started to jerk him off again with both hands, all of her attention focused on his dick. He dug his wet hand into the flesh of her breast and groaned as she tended to him.

“Can…” he tried to ask if she would use her mouth. He choked on the words as a wave of pleasure crashed into him, then another, then another.

“What?” Poppy didn’t slow down.

“I… Ah… Ff…”

And then Tora’s mind went entirely blank he rode a final wave to a peak of pleasure that decimated every sense. For a moment there was no sight, no sound, no touch. No smell, no feel. No bed, no Poppy, no nothing. Just absolute overwhelming pleasure, and then he was back, beside her, his seed pulsing out of his full member and spilling on her stomach just beneath her full chest.

His breath heaved.

“Fuck,” Tora panted. He’d never had an orgasm like that before, and all she’d used were her hands.

They lay there for a moment. Then Poppy asked if he could grab her shirt. He almost resisted—how could he possibly move yet, after that? But Poppy had asked him for something. He’d do whatever she wanted. Finding it, he handed it over.

She pressed it to her stomach to keep the semen from going everywhere. Poppy stood up and went to clean herself off.

Tora remained lying on the bed. He stared at the ceiling.

What… the _fuck_ had just happened?


	10. Candlelight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, just shamelessly scrounging through fast pass episodes for inspiration...

Tora heard Poppy moving around the room. Then he heard her walk away. He lay in the bed for a few minutes longer, staring at the ceiling. At last he drew himself up. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until now. Tora wasn’t sure he’d ever been so relaxed. Damn, he’d needed that.

He drew his boxers and jeans on, stepping in first with the tattooed leg, then the other. His shirt was inside out; he righted it and pulled it over his head. Tora went to join Poppy.

She stood by the living room light switch, flicking it up and down to no effect, and then turned to him. She was dressed in booty shorts and a t-shirt. No bra. He gulped and felt himself hardening again.

Tora turned to look out the window, where rain splattered and drummed. He fought the faint blush coloring his cheekbones, trying to clear his mind and stop the growing erection in its tracks.

“The storm must have knocked out a power line,” Poppy said. It was dim in the room but not _dark_. The thunderclouds blocked most of the light, but it was still just late afternoon.

Poppy vanished into the kitchen.

“I can’t find my matches. You have a lighter, right?” She called.

“Huh? Of course.” Tora reached into his pocket and pulled it out. Poppy reappeared, holding two votive candles. She held them out while Tora carefully lit the wicks.

He glanced up at her while doing so, which was a mistake. Her lips were redder than normal from all the kissing, her cheeks flush from the excitement. She had a glow about her. Her hair was tangled. His fingers itched to work through the loose waves. He nearly singed his thumb before the heat pulled his eyes away from her.

Poppy placed one candle on the low table and another next to Sake’s cage. She went to the balcony door and opened it. The sound of the rain was loud with the door open; a soothing rhythm backed by the occasional rumble of thunder. It brought with it the smell of wet concrete.

Tora watched her walk out to the railing. She reached a hand into the cascade of water, then drew back under the covering and shook it dry.

His eyes, for an uncomfortably long moment, were glued to the curve of her ass. _What the fuck is wrong with me. I mean, she’s cute, but it’s not like she’s…_ she turned over her shoulder and looked at him then. His heart thumped.

“I love the sound of the rain,” she told him. “Don’t you?”

He walked outside to join her.

“Yeah. S’nice.”

The rain, already heavy, picked up. It built to an absolute downpour, the kind where you could not see two feet in front of you. A few droplets splattered against the two of them, but they stayed mostly dry beneath the balcony roof, the wall of rain a curtain around them.

“You should stay. At least until it calms down a little. It’s not safe to drive.”

Tora opened his mouth, about to say that he wasn’t a pussy like Jacob, but he closed his mouth. He wasn’t trying to leave, so why argue against the excuse?

He needed to stay with her as long as he could. Who knew who might be out there, eyeing her apartment?

…and that worrying thought aside, if he played his cards right, might he convince her to come back to bed?

“It got cold so fast,” Poppy said.

_Put your arm around her. You can do it. Just put your arm around her_ , Tora told himself. He took a half-step closer to her, but at that moment she turned and walked back inside.

“Leave the door open,” she said as he followed her.

In the bedroom, she grabbed a light sweater and drew it over her head. _Fuck, no. Not more clothes._

_Less clothes._

“I think I’ll make tea. Do you want some?”

“Sure.”

She picked up one of the candles and carried it to the kitchen counter, where she put a kettle on the stove—gas, thankfully, so still functional despite the outage.

Then Poppy went to Sake’s cage. The troublesome hamster was fast asleep, but he shifted as Poppy removed the lid of the cage and reached in for his food and water.

“I’m supposed to do that,” Tora told her, reaching to take the containers from her.

“It’s fine. I already ‘ _paid_ ’ you,” Poppy said with a giggle.

“Still. Deal’s a deal. Ya asked me to feed him through tonight.” He walked into the kitchen to empty the leftover food and the old water. Poppy followed and got down two mugs and tea bags while he did so.

Lighting illuminated the room for a split second, followed by a crash of thunder.

When Tora was finished with Sake, he returned to the kitchen. Poppy was staring at the kettle, as if willing it to boil faster.

“You know… if you need help with other chores, I’ll gladly be ya errand boy.”

Poppy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Her face lip up with a smile.

“Hm, so it was worth your while? Even with the fridge and the biting?”

Tora put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for her.

“Well, you clearly knew what you were doing,” he told her.

Poppy’s face turned bright red, her body language stiffening.

“What? Um, I really don’t.” Her voice was a squeak.

“You seemed confident enough,” he told her.

“I just feel relaxed around you,” Poppy said. She ripped open the tea packets and dumped the bags into the mugs. “At least, more relaxed than I felt around…” she trailed off. The kettle whistled, and Poppy grabbed it. She poured the water without finishing her thought, staring at the steaming water with a level of focus unnecessary for the simple task.

Was she talking about the dick who cheated on her? She looked upset.

Tora felt like a fist was contracting around his heart, snuffing the life out of it. _Stop falling for her. She’s not even over that guy. Ya just a rebound. Of course she doesn’t wanna do more with ya._

_Doesn’t mean to her what it means to you._

Poppy twisted the knob on a kitchen timer, setting it on three minutes. A gentle _tick-tick-tick_ joined the heavy patter of rain. She tugged at the ends of her sleeves, then turned to him and peered up through her eyelashes.

“…so how was the work thing?” Tora asked, hunting for anything to steer the subject away from sex and romance.

“Oh. Alright.” Poppy smiled faintly. “I mean, it was nice. Getting out of the office. But I’m worried I’ll let my boss down.”

“…why?”

She leaned against the counter and sighed.

“Mr. Lam. He agreed to invest, but on a condition.”

“Seriously?” Tora felt himself getting angry. After meeting the old guy, he’d thought: _well, maybe he’s not such an arrogant prick_ , but apparently his first impression had been right. “Even after you made that great painting for him? The fuck is wrong with that asshole?”

“Calm down!” Poppy said with a giggle. “I mean, he is a little snooty, but the painting was just a gift.”

“…so what’s the condition?” Tora asked.

“Well, he wants me to get this one writer on board. A famous novelist named Q.B. Noyouko—” Tora’s eyebrows rose. “—But he’s rejected a bunch of offers from Mr. Lam already. I’m not sure how I could convince him.”

“...I can convince him,” Tora said flatly.

“Um, I appreciate the offer. But I’m not trying to threaten him into working with me,” Poppy said.

“The hell? No, I know him.”

“You _know_ him? Don’t tell me you read romance novels?”

“…Just one of my many jobs.”

“Haha, alright. You sure you’re a thug?”

“Big time thug, sweetheart.” He grinned lopsidedly.

“Thug romantic,” Poppy said.

Tora blushed. “Anyways, if you need help with him, I got you. But it’ll cost ya.”

“You’re taking that habit a little far, don’t you think?” She scowled.

He looked away. 

“…Well, what do you want?” Poppy asked after a moment.

Tora stared at her for a moment. She was still leaning against the counter, the mugs of brewing tea behind her. Her hair was a loose and beautiful mess, her eyes wide but her mouth firm and guarded. Her shapely legs were near entirely bare, the shorts just peeking out beneath the light sweater that draped over her substantial chest.

There was a difference between what he _wanted_ and what he needed. Her safety had to come first. Tora looked down at the ground, not wanting to see her response to what he had to say.

“…Either you let me stay over the next two days, or you let me get ya a hotel room somewhere. But you can’t stay here alone.”


	11. Old Narin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Tora IS a mess...! Thanks for the comments y'all, and I hope you enjoy :)

The uncomfortable look on Poppy’s face told Tora everything he needed to know.

 _Fuck my life. Fuck everything about my life_. She was terrified, upset, uncertain. He’d finally done it. Finally pushed her away.

“Tora, what’s going on?” Poppy asked. “Why can’t I be home alone?”

“I can't answer that,” Tora said. “But it’s not about you.”

“This is my _home_. How is it not about me?”

“Honestly…” he felt for a cigarette, then remember he couldn’t smoke in her apartment. “It’s probably nothing. Some… business I got tangled up with, and… I think someone saw me coming here this weekend. I just want to make sure nobody got the wrong idea.”

“That…” Poppy stared in his direction, but her eyes were unfocused, like she wasn’t really seeing him. “That… does not make me feel better.”

“It’s okay, Poppy. Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“But…”

“Look, I handled it. I just wanna make sure there’s no loose ends.”

“… _‘handled it?’_ What does _that_ …”

This was a woman who had genuinely believed a blood-covered shoe was covered in melted chocolate. Fuck, she did not belong in this world. He was a piece of shit for getting her involved in this, in any way. Why had he agreed to pet sit? And why hadn’t he been more careful about being followed? This was his fault.

But fuck if he was going to leave her in danger. He needed her to agree to this, no matter what she thought, no matter whether she hated him for it.

“Look. Do you want to work with Qui—with Q.B. Noyouko, or not?”

Poppy crossed her hands in front of her chest, blushing. She looked down at her feet, then peered up at him.

“Is this some kind of sick prank so you can sleep over?” she whispered.

Tora blanched, and _felt_ sick. Was that really what she thought of him? Not that he regretted the hand job, but was this what came of bargaining for sex? She probably thought that was all he wanted from her.

“Christ. No. I’ll get ya a hotel. You don’t have to stay with me… I’m not trying to scare you, Poppy. I’m really not.”

“Okay. Let me think.” Her voice was soft and quiet.

She walked away. He heard her closing the balcony door behind herself as she stepped outside.

The timer for the tea went off. He wanted to throw the mugs against the wall. How had he screwed this all up so fast?

But instead he lifted the tea bags out of the mugs. He considered bringing her tea to her for a moment, a peace offering. But no, she needed space. He left his on the counter, too, and sat on the kitchen floor. He buried his head in his hands and sighed. _Real smooth, Tiger._

A few minutes later, he heard the balcony door open again. He looked up as Poppy returned to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. She peered down at him, considering him.

“It’s dangerous for me to be around you, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“I see.”

“But I’ll do anything to keep you safe. I’m gonna fix this.”

“Why? You barely know me.”

“I know you enough to know… you’re…” he blinked. “I… care about you.”

Why did it matter if she knew? It wasn’t going to change anything. He didn’t have a chance with her; might as well put all his cards on the table.

“You? Care about me?” Poppy’s face was red.

“Yeah. Whatever.” He blushed and looked away.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Poppy said quietly. “I… wish you trusted me enough to tell me what was happening.”

“It’s not about trusting you. It’s just safer if you don’t know. For you.”

“I guess I have to accept that,” Poppy said. She went to the counter and picked up one of the mugs of tea with a shaking hand.

Tora stood up.

“I’ll get out of your life after,” he promised. “Once you’re safe, and you got Q.B. Noyouko. I won’t bug you.” He wasn’t going to bring any more fear into her life. He wasn’t going to ruin her trusting, happy nature.

“Is that what you want? To leave?” Poppy asked.

“No.”

“I don’t think I want that, either.” She picked up his mug and handed it to him. She blew on hers to cool it down. “Can I meet with him tomorrow? Noyouko?”

“Yeah. I’ll set it up right now.”

“Then you can stay over tonight.”

“…not a hotel?”

“No. Here.”

“…And tomorrow night?”

“We’ll talk about it.”

Was it possible he could still fix this? She already seemed calmer. He walked out of the room to call Quincey, who complained a little about the whole idea— _‘I’m not in the mood, Tora. It’s not a good time’_ —but who finally agreed. It helped that Tora promised to owe him a personal favor and to avoid hitting him for a month.

“1 pm tomorrow, at his place,” Tora said, coming back into the kitchen.

“That’s great. Thank you.”

“I can pick ya up from work.”

“No need. I’m not going in. We weren’t even supposed to get _back_ until tomorrow.”

“Oh, right. Uh, that’s nice. Having a long weekend.”

 _‘that’s nice’?_ Well, what did normal people say in conversations like this? It felt weird, but he was trying.

Poppy took a sip of her tea, her hands wrapped around the mug for warmth.

“…Anyways, we worked all day yesterday getting ready for some tabloid drop. Gil found… well, it’ll be in the news soon enough.” Poppy shook her head. “So, it’s not _really_ a long weekend.”

“’kay,” Tora said, not sure how else to respond.

The storm died down but didn’t entirely stop. It slowed to a drizzle, occasionally punctuated with moments of hard rain, though nothing to rival the downpour that knocked out the power.

“We should figure out dinner,” Poppy said after a moment. “I wish we knew when the power would be back. I don’t really want to open the fridge and let out the cold air…”

“Ya sure you don’t wanna go to a hotel? I’m sure the outage isn’t city-wide.”

“Don’t be silly. That’s a waste of money.”

“S’not a big deal,” Tora said. He made plenty of money.

“No, really. Actually, I kind of like it. It’s fun.”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Living by candlelight. Don’t you feel like we’re back in time, in old Narin or something?”

“Um. Sure.” He thought about it. “Don’t think they had kitchens like this in old Narin.”

“Honestly, Tora. Use your imagination.” She rolled her eyes.

The single candle struggled valiantly to brighten the room. An orange, flickering glow illuminated the curve of Poppy’s cheek, transforming her beauty into something otherworldly. _Imagination._ She could be a heroine from an old story, a princess.

And what was he? Just a predator, a tiger, an outlaw. She deserved a fucking king.

“Delivery?” Tora suggested with a shrug, his mind switching back to food.

“I’d rather save money,” Poppy said awkwardly.

“I’ll get it. Least I can do.”

“That’s true. I won’t argue.”

He opened a delivery app on his phone and handed it over so she could decide what to get.

Dinner broke some of the tension. They talked comfortably about Quincey’s writing, then mythology—Poppy lit up and gestured wildly as she talked about it—then the few bits of childhood that Tora could discuss without caution. The conversation meandered casually. Tora was yawning and exhausted by the time they finished. With only candles for light, it felt later than it was. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep.

“Ready for bed already?” Poppy asked.

“Sure. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be silly, there’s no reason for that. Unless you’d rather.”

“Ya saying I can sleep with you?”

“Just in the same bed, Tora,” Poppy mumbled. “I think there’s room for both of us.”

\---

Tora's pants and shirt lay neatly folded on the floor. His phone was plugged into her wall socket in the hopes that power might return in the middle of the night. Tora lay in his boxers in Poppy's bed, staring up into the darkness and trying to keep his breath even and inconspicuous. Fine. He was fine. This was normal. He was just in bed beside her, sleeping. Normal. Fine.

He had never been so aware of the space between himself and another person. In the dark, he could just barely make out the shape of Poppy a foot to his side.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her body, about earlier. About kissing her. About her hands on him. About how her breasts felt under his hands. How had she gotten so far under his skin? He felt like he was going to explode if he couldn’t have her.

He turned away so his back was to her, worried that despite the dark she might be able to see the erection his boxers failed to contain. He kept his hands studiously up by his head. Just fifteen minutes ago, he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open. Now he was wide awake.

“Tora?” Poppy asked out of nowhere.

"...yeah, sweetheart?"

“When you said you cared about me. Did you mean that?”

“…course,” he said, thankful that she couldn’t see him blush.

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?” he grumbled.

“Yeah.”

“Well, ya got a cute ass.”

“Hey!” she hit the side of his head with her pillow. He chuckled and rolled over despite himself, lifting a hand to push the pillow away.

“It’s true. And ya got a big—” She threw the pillow at him then; he deflected it. It fell onto the far side of his hips. “A big _heart_ , Poppylan. A big heart.”

She reached towards him. For a moment Tora’s heart just about jumped out of his throat, until his more reasonable mind said – _the pillow. She’s going for the pillow_ _she threw._

“Yeah, well, you…” Poppy started to say. But as she reached obliviously over him, her forearm brushed against what was very clearly a raging erection. It responded to her touch, a pulse of eager blood jumping through his shaft. “…You…. um…”


	12. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all like it :) Tora and Poppy certainly did... -coughcough-

Poppy’s hand hovered against his erection for a moment, then drew back.

“Sorry,” Tora muttered.

“Don’t be,” Poppy said.

“Don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable,” Tora said, inching away from her to the edge of the bed.

“I’m the one who practically grabbed you. _I_ should be apologizing.”

“Nah, you can grab me if you want. Uh, I mean.”

Poppy said nothing.

Tora cleared his throat and blinked into the darkness. Fuck his stupid tongue. He was normally good at acting under pressure, keeping his face blank, saying only what he wanted to say. If he ever lost his cool, it was to anger, not this. Not lust. But damn if he wasn’t acting like a teenage idiot.

“So. Maybe I should sleep on the floor,” he said after a moment.

Poppy’s hand reached out and took hold of his shaft through the blanket.

“…or not,” he whispered, his eyes closing as the pressure of her grip rippled through him.

“Is this… okay?” Poppy asked.

“Uh-huh,” Tora exhaled. "Sweetheart, you can do _whatever_ ya want to me." He turned towards her and slid his hands under the blanket.

He grabbed her by the small of her back and pulled her body across the bed until they were pressed together, then found and kissed her soft lips. Poppy let go of him to slide her hands under the blanket as well. She buried her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and closed her fingers around his length. Elation hummed through him as Poppy’s hand firmly traveled up and down his cock. Tora groaned.

He was not so fevered now as the first time, though it was still intoxicating. Tora peeled up her shirt and took one of her dainty nipples between his lips. He pushed down her shorts and reached his fingers to her center. Poppy splayed her legs as a tremor ran through her body. Tora found and rubbed her clit as she shuddered, a low moan erupting from her. His cock throbbed in response to the noise she made. She had to know what she was doing to him.

“Christ, Poppy,” he muttered. 

Breathing heavily, they each helped the other to disrobe. Then their lips met again.

Tora rose up and settled over her. He kissed her neck, his hand still teasing the pearl above her opening.

“Tora? I’m not…ready. For sex.”

“Okay. S’fine,” he said. He lowered himself down her body, trailing his mouth across her chest and to her belly. He supported himself on one hand, gripping the swell of her hip with another as he kissed his way towards her mound.

“What are you doing?” Poppy asked.

He stopped and looked up at her. He couldn’t read her expression in the dark; she was just an outline, a shapeless form that only revealed its secrets to his touch.

“Going down on ya,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Can I?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Not quite the reaction he’d been expecting, but he lowered his lips to her skin. The dark made it hard to orient himself, even with his hands on her, and Tora trailed his mouth down her abdomen until he located her delicate folds. He kissed her there and teased at her clit with his tongue.

Poppy buried her hands in his hair and made a small noise of pleasure. He flicked the little nub with his tongue and then moved lower, tasting the clean tang of her wetness. Tora’s tongue drew along her lips and pressed into her.

Poppy tugged at his hair, triggering needles of pain along his scalp. Tora followed her hands, drawing his face away from her.

“Easy,” he groaned.

“Sorry,” she whispered, and drew her hands away from him entirely.

He put a hand on her thigh. She wasn’t responding to his touch.

“You okay?” Tora asked.

“Yeah.”

“Um, are you… enjoying this?”

“It’s just kind of awkward.”

“…Awkward?” Well, that was a mood-killer.

“Sorry. I just… I’m kind of self-conscious?”

“Why?” He rose back up beside her, trying not to touch her.

“I don’t know. Like, do I taste weird? Am I grossing you out? It’s just weird, having someone down there.”

“You don’t have anything to be self-conscious about,” Tora muttered.

“I know my body isn’t exactly perfect,” Poppy muttered.

“You’re kidding.” He stared in disbelief at her outline, then reached out and wrapped his arm around her soft, curvaceous body. “Poppy, I think you’re sexy as _hell_. I can’t think straight around you. And you don’t… taste weird.”

“It’s fine, Tora. I don’t need a pep talk. I just can’t relax if you’re down there.”

“Sorry. I just thought you’d like it,” he muttered. A swirl of thoughts in his head: she didn’t get how gorgeous she was? And he’d made her uncomfortable? He didn’t want to be done for the night, but he felt awkward now too, uncertain whether it was wrong to make another move.

Poppy eased his uncertainty by pressing her lips against his—well, against the corner of his mouth, anyways; the dark made her miss, but then he shifted his face and locked his mouth against hers.

She pushed him gently back and then she was kissing her way down his body.

“What? Poppy…”

“Just because _I_ don’t like it doesn’t mean you can’t,” Poppy said. She grasped the base of his cock in one hand. It took a moment for her to find his tip in the dark, and her face grazed along the edge of his shaft before her lips closed over his head.

“I… ahhh…” Tora’s mouth parted in a moan as words failed him. Slowly, Poppy’s head began to bob up and down on him. “That’s… good…” he muttered as she slid her warm mouth up and down, her lips firmly wrapped around his rod. Surges of euphoria built, then ebbed as Poppy drew her mouth away to draw a deep breath. Then she was back on him again.

_“Fuck_ ,” Tora moaned. She kept working him until his teeth were gritted to hold back cries of pleasure. He bucked his hips up towards her and Poppy’s head stilled. She held herself in place as he thrust himself unsteadily in and out of her mouth. He fought to restrain himself to shallow and slow movements, even as his hips rocked up savagely against her. The result was unpredictable. Poppy drew herself away and pinned him down with her hands, then lowered her lips around him again.

“…gonna cum,” Tora growled, his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut tightly. Then he was releasing, semen pulsing out of him and into her mouth. When he was finished, Poppy drew herself carefully off of him. She was panting, working her jaw wordlessly to relieve it of the strain he had put on it.

“Fuck, Poppy,” Tora whispered. “That… shit… thanks.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

Bliss. Euphoria. He needed nothing else, but Poppy had not come. She certainly deserved to, and besides, even with his desire sated he wanted to hear her moan again.

He pulled her up the bed and settled his hand between her legs. There he found a surprise: she was soaking, far wetter than she’d been before.

“…did ya enjoy yourself, too?” he whispered in her ear. “You’re so damn wet.”

“Mmmn… I just liked seeing you so… turned on,” Poppy murmured. He pressed a finger tip firmly against her clit and began to play against her. 

“I know what you mean,” Tora growled as a whimper escaped her lips. He moved his hand faster and she cried out, kicking the blankets entirely off and rocking against him. He buried two fingers in her as deep as he could, and attuned himself to her every reaction, needing to make her cry out, anticipating her release. 

At last, with his thumb on her clit and his fingers deep inside her, Poppy came. Tora did not stop. He was on his side beside her, his other hand beneath her neck.

“Tora,” she said weakly after a minute, her hips gently moving with his hand. “I finished. You can stop.”

“D’ya want me to stop?”

“…no,” she breathed, her head digging back into the pillow as her chest rose for a moment. He dipped his head and bit her breast lightly, then drew his lips against her mouth. Poppy moaned into him.

They kept kissing for a while longer, until Poppy’s exclamations became too loud and distracted; she turned her head away from him and cried out with pleasure. His wrist began to ache, but he kept pumping, alternating between her clit and her passage, sometimes tending to both at once when he had the energy to. She came, and asked again if he wanted to stop; he answered her with another kiss and began the whole thing over again.

At last his motions were reduced to the occasional stroke, and Poppy’s breathing was deep and interrupted by only the rare “ _mmmn…_ ”

Tora fell asleep just before Poppy did, his hand still resting on her naked crotch.

\---

The moment Poppy stretched and woke up, Tora was awake too. He jumped half-upright in bed like a startled cat, eyes wild, then realized where he was.

“You okay?” Poppy asked him, fighting a yawn.

“Fine,” Tora said, and slowly lay himself back down. His heart was racing with adrenaline. He was not used to waking up next to someone. For a moment he’d thought it wasn’t Poppy, but that someone was in his home, or about to attack him… _thank god I didn’t do something stupid_ , he thought, and closed his eyes, trying to steady his heart beat.

Poppy got out of bed. Tora sighed and sat back up, then realized she was entirely naked. So was he. _Right_. She was turned away from him, so he stared at her ass with unhidden interest. Was she really insecure about her body? He couldn’t begin to understand why.

He couldn’t help but inwardly sigh when she put back on her shirt and shorts from the night before. She picked up her phone from her dresser, then turned to him.

“The power’s still out. My alarm didn’t go off.”

“Time is it?” Tora asked.

“Um…” She picked up a watch. “Just past ten.”

Shit, they had slept a long time. Then again, they’d stayed up a lot later than either had planned. Tora got out of bed and found his boxers.

“I’m going to need food, and coffee. Hm… we could leave in an hour and go by a café?”

“So I’m your driver now?” Tora asked, coming up behind her and wrapping a hand around her waist. Poppy jumped and spun, pulling away from him.

“Sorry, I… I shouldn’t have assumed…” she said, blushing.

“Of course I’m taking you. I’m teasing.” He folded his arms across his shirtless, muscular chest.

“Oh. Well, I need to shower.”

She vanished into the bathroom, so Tora went out to smoke on her balcony. There was a light drizzle again, and the ground below was covered in puddles. Hell, half the street was a puddle.

She was still in the shower when he came back inside. He stretched and started to do push-ups; he doubted he was going to make it to the gym anytime during the day.

The shower turned off. A few minutes passed. The bathroom door opened.

He didn’t hear footsteps. Tora looked up, his arms half-bent, his body hovering over the ground. Poppy had a skimpy towel wrapped around her; it barely covered the top of her thighs or disguised the generous swell of her chest. She stared wide-eyed at him.

“What?” Tora asked, and finished the rep.

“Nothing. Um, nice view. Show-off much?”

“You’re one to talk,” he muttered, and did one last push up before rising to his knees.

“Excuse me, I’m not half-naked and working out.”

“No, you’re just dripping wet and naked ‘cept for a towel.”

“I live here! I just got out of the shower!”

“Whatever,” Tora mumbled, and stood up.

“ _Sp_ _eaking_ of towels, there’s one in the bathroom if you want to shower. After your _workout_.” She edged around him towards her dresser.

Shaking his head, Tora padded into her bathroom. “Use whatever you want,” Poppy called after him. Remembering her shampoo and how he’d smelled it in her absence, Tora blushed and shut the door. He just barely heard her mumbling to herself "... _obscene_ body..."

\---

They pulled up to Quincey’s just before one, having taken lunch and coffee at a café neither of them had been to before.

“Wait, here?” Poppy said, her face blank and innocent as she stared wide-eyed at the building.

“Uh-huh.”

“Quincey? Your friend Quincey?”

“Uh-huh.” Tora stared at her out of the side of his eye as he put his car in park and opened the door. He couldn’t tell if she was pulling her innocent act or if she really was surprised. 

Quincey opened the door right away.

“Welcome, dear,” He said, and offered a hand to Poppy. Then he turned to Tora. “Why aren’t you answering your phone? Dad’s looking for you!”

“Phone’s dead. Storm knocked out the power. I’m plugging it in now,” Tora muttered, reaching in his pocket for both the phone and the cord.

“’Dad?’” Poppy asked. “Wait, you’re brothers?”

“No,” Tora said. He brushed passed Quincey, clapping the blonde man on the shoulders as he said: “Well, look at you, fully dressed and not crying.”

“…what?” Poppy asked.

Quincey rolled his eyes and gestured her inside. "Look at _yourself_ , wearing yesterday's clothes," Quincey called after Tora.

Tora plugged his phone into the wall, set it on the floor, and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He could overhear Quincey offering tea or cookies to Poppy. She said something unintelligible, and Quincey laughed.

Tora chugged the glass of water. His phone beeped from around the corner. He went to it, crouched down, and picked it up. Beep. Beep. Beep. Like rapid fire. Missed calls, missed texts. They exploded onto his screen, rolling in as the power inched from 1% to 2, then 3.

Smithy. Ronzo. Vincent.

Something big was going on.


	13. Tabloid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning (maybe?) for vague mentions of violence?
> 
> Eek!

Tora opened Vincent’s messages first and scrolled through them. It was a long list spanning the last two hours, back and forth, angry and pleading, love and venom. They blurred together and made his heart race. Vincent never hit him anymore or locked him up; Tora was too big for that. But Tora was still afraid of the man’s anger. You didn’t spend so many years of your childhood under hands like Vincent’s, and just brush it off.

_Call me when you get this, son. I’m worried about you… Get the fuck to my office, now… What the hell is going on, you fucking idiot… PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE WHEN I CALL YOU… Are you okay? Are you hurt?_

Tora exited out of the conversation, willing his hands to remain steady. He opened the conversation with Gyu next.

 _Shit, bro, looks like she did have it_ , and then a link.

He clicked.

It led to an article from a major news site, detailing evidence of corruption and treason among ten different big-name politicians in Narin City. Live updates had been added to the story as it developed; eight of the politicians were under arrest. Warrants were still out for the other two.

_“…the story was broken early this morning by a minor publisher, Giant Goldfish, but the small fish has sent waves through the city as officials scramble to….”_

Fuck. Fuck. _FUCK._ That damn notebook. It had to be. So Poppy had lied to him after all, then…? For a moment he felt dizzy, unstable. _Get a fucking grip. Get a fucking grip._

What had she said to him yesterday when he asked about her work retreat? He’d been listening, but he’d dismissed it. He hadn’t connected the dots.

 _“…worked all day getting ready for some tabloid drop. Gil found… well, it’ll be in the news soon enough_.” Gil found. Gil found? But it was the notebook, right? It had to be the notebook.

Tora stayed crouched on the floor, staring at the article Gyu had sent but no longer reading it. His mind snapped around at lighting speed, striving to piece together everything he had overlooked, or misinterpreted. Trying to form a whole picture before he stood up to act.

This had to do with the notebook, definitely. Beyond a doubt. Three of the politician’s names had been on the scrap that Tora found, that day outside of Moonbright. The world was full of coincidences, but not ones so big as that. The most logical answer was that Poppy had picked up that notebook and put it in her bag.

On the rooftop, when Tora asked her if she’d found anything other than the shoe, she had said no. So she had lied to him?

Poppy must have given it to her boss.

_“Gil found…”_

Or… did she not realize where the notebook had come from? Had she been in such shock from the fall that she’d grabbed the notebook without realizing it, and then her boss had taken it? _Could_ she be as unaware as that?

Either way, Poppy was in trouble. Poppy, and everybody she worked with.

And Tora, too. Because he’d spent too much time with Poppy now to be clean of suspicion in Vincent’s eyes. Too many people had seen them together. Hell, for all he knew, the men who had followed him—the men he’d killed—had spread his location around before their deaths… _fuck_.

Too many missing pieces, and all the ones he had pointed to disaster.

Did Poppy know, or didn’t she? Had she lied, or was she oblivious?

It wouldn’t matter to Vincent, but it mattered to Tora.

“Tora?” That was Quincey, behind him. Tora looked over his shoulder, still crouched on the ground, phone still in his hands.

Quincey was holding a platter with cheese and crackers, and a bottle of sparkling water.

“Are you joining us?” Quincey asked.

“No. Gotta see your dad.” Tora turned back down to the phone. 6% battery. Think. Think. His stomach twisted in knots. He felt sick.

He imagined Poppy, being tortured for information. Poppy, bleeding out. Poppy, being hurt in other ways. In any way he’d ever seen someone hurt—and there were a lot of ways. No. It couldn’t come to that. She deserved better than that.

Was it even possible to keep her safe, at this point? Maybe he could direct all of Vincent’s anger onto Poppy’s boss. If Gil died a slow and violent death, would Vincent overlook the underlings?

Even if she had put herself in danger, knowingly—even if she had lied to Tora—even if she’d known all along what game she was playing… he didn’t want her to get hurt.

Even if she had knowingly put _him_ in danger, he didn’t want to see her get hurt.

After all, she was still herself, right? She was still a sweet, innocent, impulsive nerd. Maybe too clever for her own good, but she wasn’t… that was, she hadn’t…

He paced into the kitchen, then back towards the living room couch. Tora kept his face blank and emotionless as he stared at Quincey and Poppy talking.

He hadn’t been wrong about _all_ of her, right? There was no way.

“Well, of course Mr. Lam is sort of a pain, I can get why you wouldn’t want to work with him. But from what I gather, you would have _loved_ his wife. And it’s such a shame her manuscript was never finished…” Poppy was happily chatting, her face animated and smiling.

“Oh, is there anything sadder than an untold story? But I have so many of my own to work on…” Quincey’s tone was dramatic, but he was watching Poppy keenly. Quincey was interested in what she had to say.

“Well, I understand that. You know, I just finished reading _The Secret Garden._ I couldn’t put it down.” Poppy leaned forwards, smiling slightly at Quincey.

“Well, thank you, dear.”

“…but just imagine how romantic it would be—a half-told story from a woman in the past, finished by a brilliant novelist—a story that transcends time, that starts in one set of hands and finishes in another…”

“Oh, stop, Poppylan, I’m getting chills!” Quincey reached out and put a hand against her shoulder, shaking his head.

Tora bit the inside of his mouth and frowned.

She’d still chased after Mr. Lam, putting herself in danger to help someone. She’d still dragged Benjamin, a boy she didn’t know, all the way to Quincey’s to save his life. The painting. The rice tiger. Her hands on him. Her mouth around him. Her shyness, her insecurity about her own body.

No. She wasn’t a fake. She may have lied to him about the notebook. That was a real possibility, and one he couldn’t ignore. But she wasn’t some undercover agent from another clan, trying to take Balthuman and Tora down.

He didn’t know her well, but he knew her better than that. She was herself. Whether or not she’d lied, whether or not she’d doomed them both, she was still Poppy.

He felt sick to his stomach. Wouldn’t it be easier if he could hate her or cast her off? Turn his back on her and walk away, let this all come crashing down on her?

Easier, yes.

But he didn’t think it would be possible for him to do that. He had barely started getting to know her, but she’d made him feel things he hadn’t felt in… years? Ever?

“Tora?” Poppy asked, half-turning to see him standing at the edge of the room, like a hulking shadow.

“Either join us or go away, honey,” Quincey drawled. “Don’t just _lurk_.”

Tora said nothing. He went back to his phone and typed a message to Vincent.

_Power outage from storm. Phone died. OMW now._

He unplugged the phone from the wall. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then he stood and went to interrupt Quincey and Poppy. He wanted to ask her about it, about everything. Wanted to look into her eyes and understand, once and for all, what role she had or hadn't played. But whatever her answer, it was less important right now than getting to Vincent. The later he went to his boss' side, the less control Tora would have over the situation.

“I have to go,” Tora said, his voice flat, revealing nothing. “Does anybody know about this meeting?”

“…No?” Poppy said, a cracker halfway to her mouth, looking at him with confusion.

“I’ve been isolating,” Quincey said. “You _know_ how I handle heartbreak, honey.”

“Heartbreak?” Poppy said with concern, turning to Quincey. “Oh no, what happened?”

“Just keep it that way,” Tora interrupted at a growl. “Stay inside, both of you. And don’t tell _anyone_. No matter whether ya trust ‘em or not.”

And then, Tora left to face his reckoning.


	14. Sentimental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for fluff, I have to warn you. As you may have guessed by the last one, this is not the happiest chapter. There may or may not be some death... 
> 
> There is more fluff ahead, and smut, and romance, and ultimately a happy ending (I swear). But they've got to get out of this mess they're in first.

Parked outside Vincent’s, Tora took a moment to glance through his phone again. Flipping through his messages for any updates, he finally noticed the little icon at the top of his screen. He hadn’t seen it before, and it wasn’t until he clicked on it that he realized it was the app for the motion sensor on Poppy’s apartment, downloaded but never used until now.

It had triggered one hour ago.

Well, thank fucking Christ that Poppy agreed not to stay home alone. He allowed his heart to flutter for a moment at how close a call that almost was, then closed out of the app.

Helplessness. That was what Tora felt, watching everything fall apart after the fact. Too late to act. Too late to get the notebook back. Too late to stop Giant Goldfish releasing the information. Too late to stop or confront whoever broke into Poppy’s.

He ripped his phone off his car charger's cord and got out of the car, sliding a blank mask over his face and letting his emotions empty out of him.

He walked into Vincent’s office just in time to see Vincent rip a gold-framed print off the wall and hurl it against the ground, shattering glass everywhere. The room looked like the fall of Versailles in action. Every inch dripped wealth, and Vincent was tearing it apart.

Two other thugs stood in the room with Vincent. Both had expressionless faces, but their guns trained onto Tora as he walked into the office.

Great. So this was how the meeting was going to go.

“ _FUCKING HELL_ ,” Vincent screamed at nothing. He saw Tora then and turned to him.

Tora took in Vincent’s mussed hair, his shirt undone one button deeper than usual, the snarl on his face. There were sweat stains on his shirt. From the looks of things, this tantrum had been going on for a while.

 _“YOU_. Explain.” Vincent growled.

“Catching up, just like you are,” Tora said coolly. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette.

“The fucking _notebook_ , son,” Vincent seethed. He smashed his heel against one of the larger pieces of glass on the floor, splintering it. “ _THE FUCKING NOTEBOOK_.”

“Yeah, surprised me as much as you,” Tora said. He lifted his lighter to the end of his cigarette and inhaled slowly. The end of the cigarette crackled under the flame.

“Fascinating,” Vincent seethed. “Considering I know _for a fact_ how much time you’ve been spending with this… this… _Poppylan Wilkes_. Funny how she just _happens_ to work for the same publisher…”

Tora sat down on Vincent’s couch and put his feet up. _Don’t look rattled._ The only way Tora was getting through this was if he could act like he didn’t care. _Open body language._ Tora threw one arm across the back of the couch and tilted his head at Vincent.

The best way to lie was to tell the truth.

“Thought I had a lead, followed it,” Tora said. “Searched her house, her work. Didn’t find shit. Didn’t say anything to ya ‘cuz I thought for sure it was a dead end. Guess the bitch got one over on me.”

Vincent stood in front of Tora, his blue eyes as chilling as a blizzard.

“Then _why_ the continued company?”

Tora had an unpleasant guess as to how Vincent knew: a guess that ended with two mangled, burning bodies in a truck in the woods.

“She’s got a cute ass,” Tora said with a shrug.

“You fucking _idiot_ waste of space…” Vincent ran a hand through his hair.

Tora took a drag on his cigarette. Vincent pushed up his shirt sleeves, staring down at the killing machine he’d crafted.

“I’ve never known you to get distracted by a woman.” Just like that, Vincent’s tone was conversational.

“It does happen. Just usually doesn’t fuck me over,” Tora grumbled. “But hell, if you’ve been keeping tabs, does that mean the guys following me were yours?”

“Paul and Hyeon? Of course,” Vincent said blandly.

Those _were_ the names from the two guys he’d killed and burned. He’d memorized it from their IDs. Fuck. And here Tora thought Vincent trusted him. Or used to.

Tora pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and smirked at Vincent, to all appearances unfazed by the revelation. “Damn, Vin. Then I’m sorry I killed ‘em. They were tailing me. You shoulda let me know.”

Vincent’s lip curled up in disdain. He took a seat in a baroque chair and regarded the unruly tiger before him.

“I don’t care about that. They were disposable.”

“This mean ya don’t trust me after all?”

“Just covering my bases, son,” Vincent said. He picked up the glass of abandoned whisky on the table beside him, the ice half-melted. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Then Vincent took a slug of the liquid.

“Hm.” Vincent peered at the melted ice in his glass. He set it aside, got up, and took a fresh crystal tumbler from his drink cart. _Clink, clink_ , he dropped two ice cubes from an opulent ice bucket in and added an inch of Yamazaki single-malt.

Another thing.” Vincent said, his back to Tora. “Your phone, being off. Unacceptable, Tora.”

“Ran outta battery. No power in the storm.”

“But Quincey didn’t lose power. So you weren’t with him, or even home.”

Vincent turned around, the glass gripped in his hand.

“…yeah,” Tora admitted.

“What if he needed you. And I _did_ need you. Unacceptable.”

“I know. Won’t happen again.”

“You’re lucky I have such a soft spot for you, or you’d be long dead already,” Vincent said. He smiled and looked at Tora with a little twinkle in his eye as he returned to his seat.

“So what now? Ya want me to take ‘em all out?”

“Scharch and Claude have already done the bulk of it,” Vincent said. “The only one they haven’t found is the girl. Her home was empty when they searched it. Any ideas?”

“I can find her.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you in a difficult spot if you’ve been _involved_ with her. I’m sure Scharch, for one, would be happy to play cat-and-mouse.”

Tora felt his stomach drop out of him at the thought of what Scharch would do to Poppy if he got his hands on her. Tora sighed and smirked at Vincent.

“Don’t be stupid. You _know_ I’m not sentimental.” Tora stared lazily at Vincent.

The older man flinched almost imperceptibly. Something—fear?—shifted behind his icy eyes.

“If anybody else were talking to me like that,” Vincent murmured, “their brains would already be on the back of the wall.”

“But here I am. And what about the notebook?” Tora asked.

“Already destroyed. Don’t be long, son. There’s still the rest of Ninedaggers to deal with.”

“Fine.” Tora got up to go.

“One last thing,” Vincent said. “Given your _involvement?_ I’m going to need proof. That you took care of her.”

\---

He went straight to Quincey’s. The animated conversation cut off as Tora stormed through the door.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Quincey’s forehead wrinkled as he took in Tora’s stiff expression and guarded stance.

“This meeting didn’t happen, Quincey,” Tora said, standing just in front of the doorway.

“What? But…” Quincey put down his glass, blinking.

“Poppy. C’mon. We gotta go.”

“Tora, I don’t want to leave.” She sat up, back straight, her eyes commanding him.

It didn’t work

“I’m not asking,” Tora snapped.

“You can’t just burst into a meeting and…”

“ _Now, Poppy._ This isn’t a game.”

She was about to protest again, but Quincey intervened.

“Please, do as he says,” Quincey said to Poppy softly. “We can continue this later. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Poppy shook Quincey’s hand, her face a mixture of anger and mortification. Tora steered her outside to the car, where she pushed off his hand.

“You don’t get to boss me around, Tora. What’s going on?”

He hated the way she was looking at him. He was _used_ to being looked at like that and could usually brush it off. But for a stupid, idiotic few days, Poppy had made Tora wonder if there was another way for him to live, another way for him to be.

Clearly, there wasn’t.

“Get in.”

“Not before you tell me what’s going on.”

“Get in and I will.”

She silently obeyed, her body language still stiff. Poppy crossed her arms in front of her as Tora began to drive, his red sports car lashing around the tight corners as he accelerated out of the city.

“Can you slow down?” Poppy asked.

Tora said nothing.

“Tora, you’re scaring me. Please slow down. Where are we going?”

He was taking her away, as far away as he could get while still making it back in time.

But without warning, the clamp he’d put over his emotions broke. His calm rationality melted away, leaving him overwhelmed by fury and confusion.

Why the hell _was_ he doing this? It was too much. His life was on the line, literally on the line, for this woman who he barely knew anything about, this woman who hadn’t even been honest with him. Hell, they hadn’t even slept together, not really.

He needed answers from her.

They weren’t far from the turn-off to Regina’s peak. Without even thinking about it he whipped the car in a u-turn and floored it. Poppy yelped and then dug into her purse, hunting through it.

They climbed the steep, twisting road. Then Tora was parked at Thug’s Pavilion with Poppy beside him. She was frozen petrified, her hand hidden in her purse but clutching around a taser.

Tora felt halfway to death. He left his hands glued to the steering wheel even though the car was off. He stared through the windshield at the old graffiti and the city beyond.

At last he looked at her out of the corner of his golden eyes. He let go of the steering wheel and lit a cigarette.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Poppy,” he snarled, dragging on the cigarette. “So you can… you can fucking relax already.”

“Please tell me what’s happening. Is this that… that ‘unfinished business’ you mentioned earlier?”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ play dumb with me.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Poppy said.

“Oh, come on. The shit you published. What… what the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

“That?”

Poppy coughed at the smoke that had started to fill the car. Tora ignored her discomfort.

“Yeah, _fucking_ _that._ ” He enunciated each word clearly, his voice like a cracking whip.

“There’s nothing wrong with exposing corruption, Tora. It was the right thing to do.” Her voice was soft and trembling.

His own was nearly a yell, his fury undisguised.

“It was a _fucking idiotic_ thing to do. When I _asked_ you whether you found anything but Goliath’s _goddamned bloody_ shoe…”

“So that was real blood…?” Poppy muttered, her face drained of any color. She coughed again. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Panic was making her gasp shallowly for air, and smoke kept filling her lungs instead.

She put her hand on the door handle. He smashed the lock button on his side of the car and glared at her.

“Answer the fucking question, Poppylan. _I’m not playing_. The fuck were you thinking _?”_

“Why do you care? It was just politicians.” She struggled to breath.

“How the _fuck_ do you think we operate?” His yell made her wince. Tears pricked at her eyes. “You think the clans would be so goddamned powerful without those politicians on our side? You just saw a fucking _hornets nest_ and put your foot right through it.”

Poppy coughed again. He felt a moment of remorse and cracked both their windows an inch. There was no strong breeze that day to help usher it out, and the smoke leaked away slowly.

“…just, why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Tora said, his voice calmer now, no longer yelling. It almost sounded like he was bargaining, trying to convince her or himself. Like if he could convince her that she should have trusted him, they could wind back time and chart a new path, one where he had gotten his hands on the notebook and stopped any of this from coming to pass.

“I didn’t know you. I _still_ barely do. Besides, I didn’t think this would affect you. I wasn’t trying to get you in trouble.” There were tears rolling from her eyes now, although her voice was more or less steady.

“You’re the one in trouble, Poppy. Not me. You fucked this up. You fucked it all up.”

“Please stop. You’re scaring me,” she whispered. Her hand tightened inside her bag.

Tora looked out the window. His jaw clenched.

“You wanna be _scared_ , Poppy? You wanna know what the _fuck_ I do for a living, Poppy? You wanna know who the fuck _I_ am?” He turned and looked her flat in the eye. “My boss just told me to _kill_ you for what ya did.”

She yanked a hot-pink taser out of her bag.

“Jesus, I’m not go—” Tora started to say with a sigh, but she jammed it against his arm.

“FFF—FUCK YOU,” Tora yelled as electricity jolted through him. His cigarette fell out of his mouth and seared a hole in his jeans, then tumbled to the floor of the car. His fingers flexed helplessly as he jolted.

He grappled for the taser, but she kept shocking him. He couldn’t get his hand wrapped around it, but managed to bat it away. It twisted out of Poppy’s hand and onto the floor.

He half-jumped up and out of his seat and was on her, trapping her.

Tora’s hands encircled her thin wrists, pinning her arms back against the top of her seat. His chest pressed against hers, his face hovering above her. Terror leaked out of her, pure and unfiltered. He could feel her heart beating out of her chest against his skin. Like a frightened rabbit. Frightened hamster.

She was choking and gasping on tears.

This was not how he’d wanted it to go. She was soft and helpless under him.

“Look at me,” Tora said. His voice was unintentionally harsh.

Raw, raw panic; eyes rolling, looking for escape. Her knees shifted, trying to free herself, to get out from under him. But Tora was unmovable.

“Poppy, look at me. _Look at me_.” His voice softened into a plead.

“I don’t… I don’t…”

“I’m not gonna hurt you. Take a breath.”

She panted shallowly. He gazed at her scrunched up face, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Kid… would ya just look at me?”

She did at last. Fear still glazed her eyes, but he stared into them until he could see her _see_ him, and knew she was able to listen, to hear through her terror.

“You need to trust me, Poppy, ‘cuz I promise. I’m not going to hurt you. Nobody is.”

Whether or not she believed him, she had heard him. He sat back, twisting into his own seat, and let go of her hands slowly. The dropped cigarette still smoldered on the floor; he regarded it like it was something he was watching in a film, like he was looking through someone else’s eyes. He crushed it under his foot, then saw Poppy shudder out of the corner of his eye.

The motion wracked through her entire body.

Tora felt himself sinking into self-loathing, that old familiar friend. He really thought, after all these years, he was desensitized to all this. He had been doing it so long he didn’t think _anybody’s_ reaction could get to him like hers did.

But she was under his skin. Somehow, Poppy had gotten to him. He took a breath and tried to explain what was happening to her, his voice dry and flat.

“…I came after you because I thought you had that notebook. I was trying to get it back, before you got yourself into trouble. Without you knowing. I didn’t want you to know about this. _Any of it._ But you, or, or ya boss, went and fucked it up, and now it’s too late. You’re in this.”

The reality hit him almost as hard as it was hitting Poppy.

Suddenly he needed air.

He grabbed the keys so she couldn’t drive away, and he got out of the car. He wanted to scream, wanted to hit something. He almost punched one of the concrete pillars of thug’s pavilion, but instead just lit another cigarette.

A car door closed. Poppy had gotten out of her seat.

Tora looked over his shoulder. She was standing next to the car, her hand on it, her eyes still glazed over.

“Please don’t fucking try to run, Poppy. You know I’ll just catch you.”

“What happens now?” Despair. Her voice was flat, robbed of feeling.

“Now I gotta convince my boss I did my job. So you go into hiding and we let everyone think you’re dead.” He walked to the car, keeping it between them as a barrier, and put his hands on the roof. He stared at her. She stared back, then blinked and turned away.

“No. We... we’ll go to the police.”

“You do that and I die,” he said, her terror lending him an odd patience.

“But…”

“If I don’t kill you, he kills me. And then, he sends someone _else_ to kill you anyways. Whether the police are watching ya or not. That’s how this game _works_ , sweetheart.”

If Vincent didn’t known how much time Tora had already spent with Poppy, maybe he could have gotten away with just wounding her, like he had with other targets. But it was too far gone now. The only way to escape suspicion was for Poppy to die—or, for it to seem like Poppy had died.

“But why...”

“There’s no why, Poppy. There’s just what is and what isn’t. And when the big boss wants you dead, all ya can do is die, or run. So just be fucking glad that I said I’d take care of ya, because if _anyone_ else had come for you, you’d be gone already.”

She hugged herself.

“Why not just kill me, then? If that’s the kind of man you are. Sounds easier.”

_God, like a fucking punch to the stomach._

“You have no idea the kind of man I am,” he said.

“…Tora?” There was a whole new level of fear in her voice, dry and croaking.

He didn’t answer but waited for her to continue.

“…if they want you to... do _that_.... what about… what about…”

“Your co-workers?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, Poppy.”

He meant it, too. He _was_ sorry.

He’d wanted to keep her out of this, but was it even his fault? He’d _tried_ to find the notebook. He’d _tried_ to keep her in the dark. All he could do now was clean up the mess as best as he could.

Poppy started hyperventilating again. She pawed at the car, trying to keep from collapsing.

“Did… did you…”

“No. It’d already happened before I got there. If we weren’t at Quincey’s, they woulda come for you too. They went to ya place and everything.”

She was still struggling to stay upright. Tora sighed came around the car to support her. But when he reached for her, she flinched and slid down the side of the car, where she crouched on the ground. He pulled back and let her have her space.

For a few minutes he kept his distance and tried not to feel mad at her.

What was he expecting? A thank-you? A kiss? He was screwing himself over, risking his own life, crossing _Vincent fucking Balthuman_ to save her, some woman he barely knew.

And all she could see was a monster.

At least she was alive. He gave her another moment to process before he spoke.

“Get back in the car, Poppy. We’ve gotta drive a little further.”


	15. Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness y'all. Thank you SO much for the comments. I'm sorry the last chapter was rough, but I'm glad that people are reading and enjoying!

The unassuming motel was a twenty-minute drive from the edge of the city. Tora parked at an angle, straddling the line between two spots.

“Stay in the car,” he told Poppy. She didn’t respond, not even to nod or to look at him. She’d stopped crying soon after leaving Regina’s peak and had been like a corpse ever since.

Tora popped his trunk. His unpredictable work meant he kept a variety of things at hand. Now, he tugged on a hoodie and grabbed his black baseball hat. Hair back, hat on, hood up. He grabbed a protein bar out of a ripped-open box; they tasted like cardboard, but it was fuel. It went into his sweatshirt pocket. A switchblade came out of his backpack and joined the protein bar. A sizeable amount of cash, more than an ordinary man would carry in his trunk, went half into his wallet and half into his pants pocket.

The desk was staffed by a pimply teenager, who stared a little too hard at Tora. The big man paid cash for two nights and held up two fingers to indicate how many room keys he’d need.

Back to the car. He went to the passenger side and opened Poppy’s door.

“C’mon. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move. He grabbed her arm, but Poppy shrugged him off and at last got out of the car on her own. Fine. So long as she was moving, he didn’t care. She followed Tora to room #7; he unlocked the door and held it open while Poppy shuffled through.

The room was as ugly as it had been cheap. Two beds, the comforters an obnoxiously loud pattern meant to disguise stains from blood, vomit, and other bodily functions. A small picture of a flower over each headboard. Nightstands with lamps and alarm clocks on the inside of both beds, as if to maintain the space between them. Red carpet that probably hadn’t been vacuumed in a month. An old TV sitting on a beat-up chest of drawers. A desk with a little coffee maker and Styrofoam cups. Heavy curtains. A sink at the back, and a door that doubtlessly led to the toilet.

Poppy sank onto the foot of the nearest bed. Tora hesitated for a moment, then crouched down in front of her and looked her in the eyes.

“Poppy.”

She stared at him without seeing him, her face blank.

Emotional shock. He’d seen it before, and he should have expected it. This was new territory for Poppy, not just ‘a bad day.’

“Christ. Fuck,” Tora muttered, standing up. 

The coffee maker. He filled the carafe with water from the sink and turned on the machine. The Styrofoam cups were stuffed with tea bags and coffee pouches. He ripped open the packaging to a black tea bag and dumped it into one of the cups. Hot water began to drip back into the carafe, tinged brown from years of brewing coffee. Maybe tea was a bad choice. Whatever.

While it kept heating, Tora stripped the blanket from the other bed—the one Poppy wasn’t sitting on. She didn’t move as he folded it in half and wrapped it around her shoulders. It wasn’t cold in the room, but the small act of comfort was one he remembered from childhood.

He paced, tore off his hat, scratched his head. The water was still brewing. She would need somewhere to put the cup and she probably wouldn’t move from the edge of the bed anytime soon.

He cleared off one of the night tables, dumping the lamp and the alarm clock onto the floor in a tangle of wires. Tora hefted the table and set it back down next to Poppy. He dug into his pocket for the protein bar, then grabbed the TV remote from the dresser and put it next to her as well. After a moment of thought, he counted out enough cash to get her through a few days. Food, motels, transportation.

Just in case something happened to him along the way. 

The coffee maker at last beeped triumphantly. He poured the hot, coffee-flavored water over the tea bag, and put the Styrofoam cup on the night table. Tora crouched in front of Poppy again.

“So I’m gonna need a lock of hair. Do you mind?”

She shook her head slowly. He opened the switchblade; the sight of it startled her into shrinking away from him. Tora waited, blade still, until Poppy regained some sense of composure. Slowly, he reached out and took hold of a lock of her hair. Holding it tightly so he wouldn’t tug her scalp, he sawed off a chunk the length and width of a finger.

He flipped the knife closed. Tora hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave it with her, but then put it back in his pocket. It wouldn’t be enough to even the odds between her and any of Vincent’s men, and nobody knew where she was. Besides, he wasn’t sure about her mental state right now. Better not to leave her with a knife, just in case.

“Gimme your phone.”

She reached into her pocket and handed it over to him without argument. So shock was good for something, after all.

Tora reached to take it and their fingers brushed. He couldn’t help it, but let the small touch stretch longer than it needed to. 

“Poppylan. I gotta go.”

She nodded slowly.

“Listen. I’m taking a risk here. Trusting you. Please don’t fuck me over.”

She nodded again.

“So just, fucking, please stay inside until I get back.”

She nodded once again, looking like a bobble-head doll. 

He wanted to apologize. Not for anything he’d done, because all he’d fucking done was try to save her ass at his own expense.

But for what she was going through. For the world she had lost. For her life, because had he really saved it? He used to tell himself, when things got bad, _at least I’m alive. If ya still breathing, ya can keep fighting._ Looking at Poppy’s blank face, bundled in a cheap motel quilt, he found himself wondering whether or not that was true.

There was no fight in her. He knew, at some level, that she would get it back, that the shock wouldn’t last forever. But in that moment, it was like something inside her really had died. Some light had gone out.

He put her phone in his pocket, still pinching the lock of hair together in his fingers, and pointed at the protein bar and the tea.

“Eat and drink,” he said. “It’ll help. I should be back tonight. But if I’m not back by… the morning after tomorrow. Just get as far away from Narin City as you can.”

And then he left, locking the door behind him.

In the car, he took her strawberry hair tie out of his glove box. He looked at it for a moment with regret, then wrapped it around the clump of hair. It was a nice touch, but he wished he could have kept it.

Tora opened the switchblade again. He braced himself, then made a small cut on his hip, somewhere easily disguised. Drops of blood welled up out of him. He smeared them onto the clump of hair, then dropped the ‘trophy’ into a cup holder. He collected the rest of the blood on his fingertips until the wound sealed, and made a mess of his hands, and got a little bit on his hairline.

“ _Now_ all I need is to get pulled over,” Tora muttered to himself sarcastically. The blood on his hands dried quickly. He turned on his car and began to drive.

\---

“Come in,” Vincent said.

The culmination of years of practice and suppressed emotions: Tora’s face went blank, like he didn’t give a fuck about a thing in the world.

Tora pushed open the office door and entered. Vincent sat behind his desk. The office had been cleaned; no signs of broken glass, statuary, or ceramics were visible on the floor. New art had replaced what was broken, like it had never been there.

Destroyed, removed, replaced. Just like that.

Tora tossed Poppy’s phone and the lock of bloody hair onto the desk. Vincent sat back in his chair and scowled at Tora.

“Get that the _fuck_ off my desk,” the crime lord snapped.

Tora snorted and grabbed both.

“Hair? _That’s_ what you brought me?”

“What, were ya lookin’ for an ear? Maybe some teeth?”

“Give the phone to Smithy.” Vincent waved the pen he was holding in the direction of his assistant. “And I was thinking a _photograph_ , Tora.”

“Unless ya want me to dredge Narin river, it’s a little late for that.”

Tora handed the phone and the clump of hair to Smithy, who shuddered a little when he took them.

“Any problems?”

“Yeah, she fuckin’ tased me.”

“That little thing? Tased you?” Vincent chuckled. He took a piece of crisp stationary from one of his desk drawers and carefully wrote out a set of names, then folded the paper and handed it to Tora.

“By tomorrow morning, son,” Vincent said.

Tora took the piece of paper and put it in his pocket, then turned to leave.

\---

It was well after midnight, and three new bodies had been added to the list of yearly homicides in Narin city. Or would be as soon as they were found. Vincent wanted to send a message; fine by Tora, since clean up took time that he did not care to spend. Killing, then errands, then back to his car and towards the motel.

He finished his cigarette and went to his pack for another. The box was empty.

_“Fuck.”_

All he had left was the shit-brand pack from the guy he’d killed the other day. Hyeon. Vincent’s guy. Tora muttered to himself and dug it out of the door of his car, then lit one up. It tasted gross, wrong. He’d been smoking the same cigarettes for the last decade.

His own pack should have lasted him well into tomorrow morning, but anxiety rode him hard. What if she didn’t stay put? What if she contacted the authorities? What if she didn’t believe Tora, or worse, didn’t care his life was on the line? What if he was an idiot to trust her?

At last he pulled into the motel parking lot, one of four vehicles. His red sports car stood out like a racehorse at a children’s pony-ride.

He was going to need to get some shitty beater if this became a habit, something nobody would expect him to drive, just for going to and from Poppy.

More shit he would have to do. He’d done so much already.

He parked in a corner not visible from the street and reached over to the passenger seat. Tora grabbed a bag from his place, a bag from Poppy’s place, and a bag of takeout food. He kicked his car door back closed, then transferred all the bags to his left hand. He locked the car door and fumbled for his motel key.

A light was on in the room, visible through the curtains. He unlocked the door and was pleasantly surprised to find that the deadbolt was on.

He knocked.

“It’s me. Open up.”

A moment later she got the door, then returned to the bed. She was still wearing the comforter he’d wrapped around her over her shoulders. Tora locked the door: knob, deadbolt, and chain.

The remote was on the bed, but the tea and protein bar were untouched on the night table. He frowned and put the bag of takeout next to them. She had to be hungry, even if her body wasn’t telling that to her brain just yet.

Tora tossed his bag onto the other bed. He put Poppy’s bag next to her and sat beside it, a few feet from her.

“I got ya some stuff. Couldn’t take too much or it’d look like someone went through ya place.”

She glanced at him but said nothing. She didn’t look angry, just… gone.

She was still in shock. He was hoping that she would have come out of it by now. Maybe by tomorrow.

He sighed and opened the bag.

Pawing through it, he showed Poppy what he’d gotten for her. A few changes of clothes, including a set of pajamas. Two books, grabbed at random from her shelves; hopefully alright choices. Family photos—ones that had been in a drawer, not on display. She nodded but said nothing. He pulled one last thing out of the bag, a chunky old flip phone, before drawing the zipper shut and putting the bag on the floor.

“I got you a phone,” he said, and handed it to her.

“What about my old phone?” Poppy asked at last, staring at the silver brick in her hand.

“Phones can be tracked, Poppy. And you’re supposed to be dead. You couldn’t keep using it.”

“Right,” Poppy said.

How to explain, even to himself, the relief that Tora felt at the absolute, scathing bitterness in her voice?

_Life_. It was a sign of life. Anger was a step away from nothingness, away from the terrifying void Poppy teetered on.

He took the phone out of her hands and opened it, clicking to contacts, then handed it back.

“My number’s in there, see? So you can call. If you need me. Or text. But it doesn’t have internet.”

“What about Sake?” Poppy asked, her voice quiet again, the flare of anger already extinguished. She closed the phone.

“What? Ya hamster?”

“Yeah.”

Tora stared.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now? Seriously?”

“He’ll starve. If nobody feeds him. You _fed_ him, right?”

“He’s a fucking hamster, Poppy. I can’t… you’ve gotta be kidding.”

She glared at him. There was that anger, back sooner than he’d expected.

Tora pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

“Fine. Fucking fine. Gotta be fucking kidding me. I’ll get him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Damnit, Poppy. He can make it one fuckin’ night. Never eats all his food anyways.”

He stood up and went to the night table. The plastic takeout bag he’d set down before held two boxes and two paper-wrapped wooden chopsticks. He opened the first box, releasing an aromatic steam into the room: rice, meat, and vegetables. Tora handed it to Poppy. He opened a pair of chopsticks, snapped them apart, and jabbed them into the pile of rice.

“You have to eat.”

“What’s this all going to cost me, anyways?” Poppy mumbled flatly. Once again, the anger was gone. It had just been a spark, a flare.

“What?” Tora asked, not sure he’d heard her right.

“Your thing. About nothing being free.”

“Fuck, Poppy. That’s a joke.” He frowned at her and rested his hands on his hips. “Tell you what. Don’t get me fucking killed, and we’ll call it even.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Poppy whispered.

Tora was silent for a long moment. Slowly he ripped open the other pair of chopsticks and broke them apart. Drew the second box of food out from the bag. He sat on the other bed and frowned at the food, then looked up at Poppy.

Why _was_ he? Could he say how attracted he was to her, in a way that transcended sex, like a shadowed, lifeless moon orbiting some lush planet? Could he say he felt somehow responsible for the bad decisions she made, because he was supposed to be better at his job, good enough to have stopped this all? Could he say his world was a broken, loveless place that she brightened, a brightness he was unwilling to let go of? A brightness he didn’t want to see extinguished.

All these things were part of a big, uncomfortable truth.

But he opened his mouth and said another fragment of honesty, one he—until that moment—had never so much as thought.

“Maybe it’s my own price I’m paying,” he told her, “for the awful shit I’ve done.”

Yes. It was a sort of penance, for a bill long overdue.


	16. Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sakeeee!
> 
> Y'all's comments give me life, and a lot of feelings <3

Tora lay on top of the sheets, flipping through his phone. He went to one news site, then another. The four missing journalists had made the headlines, but so far he saw nothing new to worry about.

He scratched idly at his bare shoulder. Tora had just changed into sweatpants; at his urging, Poppy had changed into pajamas and now stood at the sink, scrubbing her face with a motel washcloth. The overhead light was off, replaced with the low glow of one of the bedside lamps.

Tora felt that if she didn’t tell her what to do right now, she’d still be sitting on the edge of her bed and wouldn’t have so much as eaten dinner.

Poppy set aside the wet cloth and, dragging her feet, crawled back onto her bed.

“Here,” she said suddenly. He looked over, surprised by her voice.

Poppy leaned forward, the blanket he’d wrapped around her earlier bundled in her hands. She held it out to him. Tora reached over the wide aisle and took it, then spread it over his bed as Poppy crawled under her own covers.

“Lights out?” Tora asked.

Poppy said nothing. She turned away from him. He reached over and flipped off the lamp.

“Don’t,” she said. He shrugged and turned it back on.

He reached around the base of the night table, looking for the phone charger cord he’d plugged in before. It was hard to stop skimming the headlines, waiting for more information to emerge, but he needed to get some rest.

“Tora?” She asked, suddenly.

“Yeah.” She was still facing away from him.

“I want to go home,” Poppy said.

“You can’t,” Tora said with a sigh.

“I know. I turned on the TV. While you were gone.”

“…yeah?”

“Thought you might be making it up. But the news was on.”

“…I wouldn’t make that up.”

“No. I know. I was just hoping.”

He stared at her back, huddled beneath the covers, her shape obscured into a lump of blanket. All he could see of her was a tangle of her chestnut hair.

“The times we hung out. Were you just… looking for it? The notebook.”

“Why d’you wanna know?” Tora asked.

“It’s stupid.”

He waited. At last she started again.

“Just. If you’re the only… _person_ in my life anymore. Hate the idea. That was all you wanted.”

“Never been all I wanted,” he muttered softly.

Silence reigned for a moment. The room’s AC clicked back in, as it had done periodically all day, a soft whirr and a gentle draft blowing through the room.

“Poppy. For what it’s worth, I know what it’s like. To lose your whole life and start over.”

He squinted up at the ceiling, hoping that was the right thing to say. Granted, he’d been—what—six? when he was taken in by the Balthuman family. He barely remembered his life before, nothing but a few flashes of confused memory. But she didn’t need to know that. He wasn’t technically lying.

“How’s that working out for you?” Poppy muttered.

“I just want you to know you aren’t… y’know. Alone.”

For a long moment the only sound was the AC.

“Thank you,” Poppy mumbled at last.

Tora closed his eyes. He could see the lamplight through his eyelids. He turned away from it and buried his face in one of the pillows. A few minutes passed.

“Tora?” she said again.

“Mm?”

“I don’t want to have sex.”

“ _The fuck_?” his eyes snapped open as he picked his head up off the bed and turned to her. He glared at the back of her head. Where the _fuck_ did that come from? For fuck’s sake, they weren’t even in the same bed! He’d been giving her as much space as he could through this. It was borderline insulting.

“…but I… don’t want to feel alone, right now. It’s fine if you don’t want to, but. Do you think we could sleep in the same bed? Just sleep.”

“…Oh. Yeah,” Tora said, his annoyance melting away.

He pushed himself upright, but before he could climb out of his bed, Poppy’s feet landed on the floor. Then she crawled in under his blanket. He looked at her face, splotchy from crying on and off all day. She didn’t look back at him, just immediately burrowed against his side. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her against him. She was warm, and soft. His heart thumped.

Her hair smelled like her shampoo and his cigarettes. What did it feel like for her, to have his arms wrapped around her like this? He pulled her in a little tighter.

“I’m scared,” Poppy whispered against his naked chest.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tora whispered back. “I got ya, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”

\---

Tora’s phone buzzed on the night table. He opened his eyes to daylight peeking around the blinds.

Poppy stirred in his arms. She’d spent the whole night pressed against him. Tora reached over to grab his phone, pressing himself and his morning erection hard against her in the process. He grabbed his phone and slid out of bed, trying to suppress the sudden flare of sensations in his crotch.

Quincey. He hit answer.

“One sec,” Tora said, then set the phone down on the rumpled second bed. He grabbed and drew a long-sleeved shirt over his head to cover his tattoos. Tora jammed his hat on his head and grabbed cigarettes, lighter, and phone before stepping outside. There was nobody else there. A ragged wall of bushes reduced the noise from the road beyond, where the occasional car sped past.

“Alright.” Tora held the phone between his shoulder and ear while he tugged a cigarette out of the dead man’s pack and brought it to his lips. He was going to buy the right brand today. A whole fucking carton.

“Tora. I’m watching the news right now.” Quincey’s voice trembled.

“Good for ya.” Tora lit the cigarette and scowled, as if scowling could make it change brands.

“That sweet girl. Poppy.” Quincey’s voice broke. “Honey, you didn’t… you…” 

“You can find a different publisher,” Tora said after a moment, shifting his weight onto one foot and taking a drag on the cigarette.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Quincey muttered. “God, honey. I feel sick.”

Tora said nothing.

“You and your creepy silences,” Quincey moaned. “Tora, seriously. You didn’t...?”

“Do you need something from me, Quinceton?”

“No,” Quincey said softly. “No. She’s really gone?”

“Bye, Quincey.” Tora hung up. He crunched his neck to one side and then the other. He finished the cigarette.

When he came back inside, he found Poppy awake but still lying in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin as she stared at the ceiling.

“You want coffee?” He asked, walking to the machine.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going by a pharmacy today,” Tora said as he went to the sink to fill the carafe. “Can you tell me whatever shit ya need?”

“Uh…” Poppy blinked and frowned. “I don’t…”

“Hairbrush. Toothbrush. Shampoo. That kinda crap.”

“Can’t you just get the stuff at my place?” Poppy whispered.

“People are gonna be around your apartment. Cops and family and shit.” Tora explained patiently as he poured the water into the reservoir and put a coffee packet in the basket. He turned on the machine. “I can’t take all your stuff. Someone’ll notice.”

“But Sake?”

“Yeah, on the list. I mean shit for you.”

Poppy blinked up at the ceiling. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Um. Hairbrush. Toothbrush. Shampoo,” she repeated blankly.

“Uh-huh. What type, though…?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care.” Her voice was a flat whisper.

“Nothing else?”

“I don’t know. Maybe conditioner. Face wash. Maybe some mascara, and lip gloss.”

“Make up? You trying to impress someone?” She really didn’t need it. She looked good all dolled up, but she wasn’t wearing any now and still looked cute as hell. He wished he could crawl back into bed with her.

She stared at him over the blanket. He grinned at her. She didn’t laugh or crack a smile back. Tora dropped the grin.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Poppy muttered.

“I’m not.” Tora scowled and turned away.

“Whatever,” Poppy muttered, and rolled over to bury her face in the pillows.

\---

Tora left getting Sake for last. It was a hot day, and he knew better than to leave an animal in the car while running errands. He went to the pharmacy first, getting cigarettes and toiletries, and even a pack of dumb sparkly stickers he hoped would cheer Poppy up.

Then to the pet store, where he glowered in the small pet aisle until a terrified employee asked if he needed help, then pointed him to all the necessities a hamster would need. Tora was going to leave everything at Poppy’s place apart from the hamster himself, which meant buying food, bedding, cage, and toys. If Sake was so good at escaping, better to stage a fake break-out than to have all the gear look like it just got up and walked away.

Finally, just after midday, he let himself into Poppy’s apartment. Rather than carry the new cage up and down stairs, he brought the new hamster ball with him. But when Tora crouched in front of the cage an unpleasant surprise met him.

The lid was on, but not fully fastened. There was no hamster inside.

“Oh fuck,” Tora muttered. “Don’t tell me fucking Scharch…”

He had not even looked into the cage when he came last night to get stuff for Poppy. He’d been in too much of a hurry.

He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes, groaning. What the hell could he tell Poppy? She would not take this well. All her coworkers were dead, she was pretending to be dead, and now even her hamster was dead, too?

He stared at the cage, then noticed the little speck of blood on the shelf next to it.

Hamster blood, or human blood?

“Please tell me you bit that asshole,” Tora said. He strode into the kitchen, hoping against hope, and used his phone flashlight underneath the fridge.

Yup. Two little eyes looking at him.

“Oh, you little shit. I love it. Good job. Way to hide,” Tora said, grinning with relief.

Except now he had to get this goddamned hamster back out from under the fridge, again.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Shaking his head, Tora opened his phone to call Poppy. Maybe she knew a better way to wrangle her escape artist hamster.

He almost hit the button to call ‘Bobby’ before remembering that was her old number. At the last second, he tore his thumb away, heart thumping, then carefully deleted the old contact. Disaster, narrowly averted. He gave himself a second to calm down, then scrolled to the new contact, labeled with just a ‘P.’

“…seriously, you let him get out again?” Poppy asked after he explained the fridge predicament.

Tora almost told her it wasn’t _him_ , but thought better of it. Why keep pressing the point? Why say, _ya know that guy who wanted to kill Mr. Lam? I think he tried to murder your pet, too, after he scaled your apartment wall_.

So instead, he just said:

“Sorry. Ya got any tips?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Poppy said.

After the call ended, he took the little hamster house from the cage and put sunflower seeds from Sake’s food mix in there, as well as some of the bedding so it would smell like home. He placed it a half-foot from the edge of the fridge, turned out the kitchen lights, and settled down to wait.

According to Poppy, Sake wouldn’t take the bait easily if it were exposed, like the cracker had been before. The hamster house was ‘safe’ enough to his little hamster brain that he’d be willing to go in there a little faster.

It was barely twenty minutes later that Sake came out and waddled into the little house. _Thank fuckin god_. Tora had been about to give up and buy a trap.

He blocked off the entrance, circled his hands around the house, lifted it up, and grabbed the wriggling animal.

Walking his prisoner to the hamster ball, he felt a little wetness in his hands.

“You fucker. You did not just piss on me,” Tora groaned. He jammed Sake into new the hamster ball, twisted the lid tight, and went to wash his hands. At least he hadn’t gotten bitten this time. He emerged to find Sake rolling around and bumping into furniture. Tora carefully put the hamster house back where it had been in the cage and tossed the bedding. He picked Sake up.

Holding Sake’s hamster ball in one hand, he glanced around to see if there was anything else small that he could bring Poppy. He sure as hell was not coming back a third time; that would be tempting too much fate. Maybe he could get away with another change of her clothes?

Or something with her art. He sure as hell couldn’t take the easel her granny had bought her. The monkey back-pack of supplies was too conspicuous as well. But underneath it was a sketchbook. Maybe that was small enough? He eased it out one-handed from beneath the backpack.

At that exact moment, a scraping noise—key or lock picks—came from the front door. 

_FUCKING SHIT_. Without thinking Tora booked it onto the balcony, still holding the hamster ball and the sketchbook.

_Fuck. Stupid._ The balcony doorway was practically the width of the balcony.

He couldn’t hide out there. His only choices were to go back in and face them (which probably meant kill them, whoever they were), or… to climb, immediately, before anybody saw him through the sliding door.

Climb… up or down.

Up. No time to think if that was smart or stupid, he just had to _move_. Last he’d checked, the unit above Poppy’s was vacant. Here was hoping to hell it still was.

A concrete shelf jutted out over her balcony, a little roof a few feet below the next balcony’s floor. Okay. Okay. He balanced himself on her railing to reach it. Putting the hamster ball up on the balcony rooftop, he jammed the sketchbook against it to block at least one direction it could roll. _Do not fucking roll off the other edge, please, fucking please_ , Tora thought to Sake as he pulled the entirety of his body weight up by his fingertips, grunting a little as all 6’3” of him scraped up and over the concrete lip.

Sake was, in fact, rolling away.

Tora lunged and grabbed the ball, swearing under his breath. Was this ledge even weight-bearing? He hadn’t thought before moving, but it seemed to support him just fine. Lying on his stomach, he peered down at the street. No movement, and nothing to indicate who was inside. Probably not the police, since he didn’t see a car, but who knew. He didn’t have a full 360 view from here.

Okay. One more time, he had to move. He looked at the sketchbook. Better to just leave it, probably, but fuck if he was going to. He crouched on the shelf with Sake in one hand and the sketchbook in another, and then half-straightened until he met the floor of the balcony above. He transferred the sketchbook to his mouth, biting hard to hold onto it. He pinched the hamster ball in one elbow and reached his other hand up to grab the balcony railing.

He could have scaled it in a second if he weren’t trying to grip a fucking plastic sphere.

He pulled himself up the bar one handed, jaw clenched, arm straining, until he was just high enough up that he could get his other hand’s fingertips on the concrete edge. He pressed sake’s hamster ball up against the railing and rested for a second, dangling off the edge of the balcony. Then with a grunt, Tora inched up the Sake-encumbered arm until his hand could grip the balcony railing. Now both hands were on the railing.

Pinning Sake between himself and the railing, he began to pull himself inch by inch up the bars.

Once he had his hands on the top of the railing, he paused again to take a deep breath. He reached down with one hand to pick up the hamster ball, his view obscured by the sketchbook clenched in his mouth. He lifted it and began to draw it up when his fingers slipped. The ball fell.

His knee slammed forward blindly and he felt it connect with the hamster ball, pinning Sake’s sphere against the railing again. For a moment he hung there six floors off the ground, hamster ball barely suspended.

Blood pounded in Tora’s ears. He reached for the hamster ball again, this time taking the time to make sure it was securely in his grip and pulled himself up over the railing to land on the next balcony. He let the sketchbook fall out of his mouth.

Tora peered through the glass doorway of the balcony. There was nothing inside; the unit was barren. He let out a big breath and, keeping Sake in place with his foot, pried the balcony door open.

Inside, Tora lifted Sake’s hamster ball up to his face and looked into the panicked pair of eyes that met his.

“That was fucking _close_ ,” Tora told him, and almost laughed with relief.

He opened the front door for a moment to listen. Nothing, but still. _Better wait it out. Don’t wanna meet fucking Claude or Lane or some shit going down the stairs._ Wouldn’t that just be a joy to explain.

Tora sat on the floor with his legs crossed and the hamster ball in the space between them; the last thing he needed was the sound of Sake rolling around to travel to the apartment below. He leaned back against the wall and turned his phone on silent, then texted Poppy _Got him._

Curiosity got to him; there was nothing better to do. He flipped open her sketchbook and rifled around. Landscapes; the view from the rooftop. A few scribbly portraits. A drawing of Sake.

His eyes widened. That page was a drawing of _him_. That was _definitely_ a drawing of him. Tora closed the sketchbook quickly, a blush coloring his cheekbones.

He tapped his fingers against the cover and fought to suppress his smile.


	17. Hairstyle

The deadbolt and chain weren’t on the door. Tora let himself into the motel and then frowned. Poppy was still in bed, an empty Styrofoam coffee-cup on the nightstand beside her. Had she spent the whole morning there? Well, she had a lot to grieve for. It was still new. 

“Get up, sleepyhead. I’m gonna need your help.” He put Sake’s hamster ball on the ground and tossed Poppy a plastic-wrapped sandwich. It landed in her lap and she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and blinking at him.

Tora went back to the car and started bringing everything in. Poppy ate half the sandwich, then helped to fill the new cage with bedding, house, and wheel. Sake had gotten lodged under one of the bed frames. Tora pulled him out, then handed the ball to Poppy.

“If I open this ya know he’ll just get out again,” he said.

Poppy giggled—she actually _giggled_ , releasing some tightness and worry from Tora’s heart. She took the hamster ball from him and twisted off the top, then gently guided Sake out of the ball and into the cage.

“Thank you. For getting him,” Poppy said, as they both watched the exhausted little thing crawl into his new hamster-house and curl up.

“Sure.”

He dug through one of the plastic pharmacy bags and dug out three boxes of hair dye, then held them up to Poppy.

“You want me to change my hair color?” She asked, her voice tentative.

“Your face is all over the news. And we’re gonna have to leave this room at some point. I got you sunglasses, too.”

“Oh.” She blinked at the three colors he was holding. Blonde, copper, dark brown.

“Well?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s the easiest way to change how you look,” Tora said gently.

“Yeah. I get it. You choose.”

He frowned at her, then down at the boxes. At last he put the blonde and copper back in the bag.

“Brush out your hair,” Tora said, pulling out the hairbrush he’d bought her, and moved the desk-chair from the red carpet to the tiled floor in front of the sink. He went to dig through his own bag and emerged with a black hoodie to protect her clothes; the motel towels were bleach-white and would have gotten horribly stained.

Poppy shrugged on the hoodie, so big she was swimming in it. She pulled her hair out and let it cascade down her back, then stared at her pale, haunted face in the mirror. She turned away and buried her face into the hoodie instead.

“Did you just smell my hoodie?

“No! No.”

Tora leaned over behind her and whispered into her ear, “Smell like jackfruit?”

“Shut up,” Poppy muttered. She blushed and scrunched up her shoulders.

Tora laughed. He put on the gloves that came in the hair-dye kit and started mixing the color in a little plastic tray from the box.

“Have you done this before?” Popppy asked.

“Yeah. Not for a while, though.”

“What, been a hot second since you kidnapped a murder-target?”

Tora froze and looked down at the tray, an application brush in his hands.

“…Fuck, Poppy.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Poppy said. “Sorry. I am grateful, Tora. Really.”

“Matter of fact, you’re my first,” he said dryly. “If you wanna go that bad…”

“I don’t. It was a stupid joke.”

He started to mix the color again, slowly. He _had_ kidnapped her, sort of. But it was only to keep her safe. _Is it, though_? A part of himself said. Undeniably, he was keeping her safe, keeping her alive.

But it wasn’t like he _minded_ keeping her in this motel. Was that wrong? He knew he wasn’t a good person. But how was he supposed to separate what was good for Poppy from what he wanted for himself, when they were overlapping?

“So about that dye job,” Poppy said, clearly fighting to keep her voice light. “What’s the story?

“No story. I just used to do mine. In high school.” He set down the tray on the sink counter and took hold of her hair gently. He drew the bulk of it forward over one of her shoulders, keeping a small section to the other side in one big, gloved hand.

“Sometimes I’d do my friends’, too,” Tora added, thinking of Goliath for a painful moment.

“Tora with dyed hair?” Poppy said. He shrugged; she watched him in the mirror. For a moment, their eyes met through the reflection. Then he turned back to her hair, picking up the brush and smearing the dye—so dark and concentrated it looked black—up at the top of her head.

“What color?” She wanted to know.

“Red.”

“Like ginger?”

“Nah, bright red. Not natural.”

“Oh, so you were a punk even before you were a thug?” She asked.

“Who said anything about before?” He said, grinning down at the top of her head.

“What?” She turned to look up at him.

“Don’t move your head. You’re gonna make me lose track of where I am.” He finished coating the strand he was holding and took another section. “Dang. You got a lot of hair.”

“So wait, how old were you when you got involved in your organization?”

“Yeah, we’re not having that conversation,” Tora said, voice flat.

“It’s not like I can tell anyone,” she said moodily.

“…So you ever dye _your_ hair, Bobby?”

“No way.”

He worked the dye through her locks, using the brush and his fingertips, careful to cover every strand before moving to the next section.

“Red hair, huh,” Poppy mused. “I can’t picture it.”

At last Tora was done. He pulled all the hair back behind her, away from her face, and secured it with a plain hair tie to keep it off her skin. He tossed the tray of dye into the trashcan, then stripped off the gloves.

“I got a bit on your forehead. Shit. One moment.”

Tora grabbed a napkin from last night’s bag of takeout and wet the end of it, then leaned in to dab at her face.

Poppy locked eyes with him. His heart thumped. He cleared his throat and stared pointedly at her hairline again, then pulled his hands away.

“Sorry if it stains. Pretty much got it, though.” He tossed the napkin and grabbed his phone, setting a timer for 25 minutes.

“If you got to play with my hair, can I do yours?” Poppy asked.

“I’m not dying my hair again,” Tora said.

“I was thinking braids, actually. Sit down.” She stood up from the chair.

He didn’t want braids, but how could he say no to her right now? Tora gulped and sat in the chair, crossing his arms to occupy his hands. Poppy’s own hands came to rest on his shoulders for a moment, then started to comb through his black locks.

Alright, it had been a good decision. Her hands through his hair felt like bliss. She pulled the hair tie off his half-bun. As his hair fell loose, she dragged it back away from his face, tugging gently on his scalp. It’d been a long time since anybody had played with his hair. Well, unless he counted having it pulled during sex, but that was… that was _entirely_ different from the gentle way Poppy was…

Alright. He could not think about sex right now. _Bad idea, Tora._

She hummed lightly to herself as she started to divide his hair.

“…Ya doing braids like the ones you had at Chevy’s?” He asked to distract himself from the far more interesting thought of a naked, moaning Poppy.

“Hah, no. I’m doing smaller ones for you.”

His phone buzzed. Tora pulled it out of his pocket. _Vincent_.

_Clan meeting at 8, son. In the conference room. Be there._

Tora sighed and texted back agreement. He had hours. He didn’t want to think about it until then.

“Tora?” Poppy asked, finishing one braid and moving on to the next. “I know this whole thing is serious…”

“Yeah.”

“But I was thinking. Would it be such a big deal for me to tell my gran? I know she wouldn’t tell anybody.”

“I don’t know, Poppy. The more people who know… secrets like that are hard to keep…”

“I just… after my dad, you know. She’s my only family. And I’m hers.”

Only family? He knew her dad was dead. But what about her mom? Dead too, or just out of the picture?

He put his phone back in his pocket and closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Poppy’s hands tangling and twisting his hair. If she wanted him to know, she could tell him herself. He wasn’t about to go digging through her old wounds while she just began to deal with this new one.

“Can we talk about it in a few days? Let the press die down first?” He didn’t think it was a good idea. But maybe he could give her that one small comfort.

“Okay,” she said, her voice soft.

The timer for her hair went off after a half-dozen minutes of silence.

“It can wait a few minutes, right? I’m almost done here,” Poppy said.

“Yeah, if you’re really that close,” Tora said, sliding the timer off.

She finished a final braid and put her hands on his shoulders, then looked at him in the mirror.

“Done. Look.”

Tora stared at his reflection. A braid hung over each of his shoulders, more down his back. It pulled his hair totally off his face, showing his full jawline and his gauges. Poppy stood nervously over him, hands on his shoulders, staring not at herself in the mirror but at him and his reaction.

“… Anyways. Time to rinse ya hair,” he mumbled, standing up quickly and turning towards her, away from the unfamiliar reflection.

The bathroom had a tub and a shower nozzle on a hose. He guided Poppy to sit with her back against the tub and crouched down beside her with the nozzle in one hand. He turned on the water, pointing the water onto the tub floor as he fiddled with the knobs.

“Close your eyes. I don’t wanna get water in ‘em.” He waited a moment for it to warm up, then gently tilted her head back and began to spray the dye out of her hair.

“Let me know if the temperature changes,” he said softly, and worked the water through her hair, not using his hands until the spray started to run clear. When it did he massaged her scalp a little, and watched her face relax under his touch.

At last he set down the hose, still on. He gathered up her hair and helped her pull his sweatshirt off, trying to avoid the hair touching where the dye was still wet on the fabric. Then one more rinse and he turned the water off.

Poppy toweled her hair dry, then looked down at the brownish tinge she’d given the bright-white towel.

“Oops,” she said, and grimaced up at Tora, showing him.

“Guess I’m going to a laundromat,” he said with a lopsided smile. “Or we’ll just toss it.”

He drew her back out to the mirror and stared at her as she stared at herself. He couldn’t quite make out her expression. If anything, she looked a little uncomfortable.

“I guess it looks natural,” she muttered. “What do you think?”

“Pretty,” Tora told her. “I mean, I liked your real color. But you look good.”

“Do you really think that? Are you just being nice?”

“Jesus, Poppy. We’re right in front of a mirror. Can’t ya see that for yourself?”

She stared at herself in the mirror, then looked away, blinking back tears. No chance this was just about hair dye. Her long, damp hair was a number of shades darker than it had been before, but it wasn’t a terribly dramatic change.

Maybe she was emotional because of everything happening. Well, of course that was part of it. But suddenly, looking back at things she’d said to him before, Tora confronted the unpleasant thought that maybe she really _didn’t_ get it. How could a woman be as stunningly, knock-out gorgeous as Poppy and have no clue?

She swiped at an unfallen tear and gulped, losing the fight against her own emotions. He caught her in a hug and held her against him.

“Do you really not see it?” he whispered, uncomfortable. “How pretty you are?”

“It’s just hard to believe it. I was never good enough for… well…”

“...That ex?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“He’s a fucking idiot. You know that, right?” He pulled back a little bit. With one big hand, he tilted her face up. Her eyes were still wet, but no tears fell. His breath caught in his throat. The way she felt was just _wrong._ His heart was caught between fury that anyone had ever made her think that, and a sharp ache at her own pain. “And Poppy? You’re… you’re fucking _gorgeous_.”

He let go of her and stepped back.

Poppy grabbed him, pulled his face down, and kissed him. Tora’s eyes flew wide, then slowly closed as he melted down against her, molding his mouth and his body around her.

For a moment he wondered if he should stop her, stop this. High emotions made for bad decisions. So much in Poppy’s life was upside down right now. Did she even know what she was doing? The last thing he’d want was for her to regret this. And she could hardly get space from him, the one person in the world who knew she was still alive.

But she kept kissing him, deepening the kiss, her hands moving from his chest to slip around him and cling to his back.

Then Poppy broke away, leaving Tora gasping for air. No sooner had he surfaced than she took his hand and began to draw him towards the nearest bed.

He was helpless to do anything but follow.


	18. Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all all I can say about yesterday is that I'm really glad that chapter fell on that day in my plot outline because yeah... I, too, was majorly hurting after episode 39 :(
> 
> Thank you all so much for your comments, they mean a lot to me!

Poppy backed up onto the bed, pulling Tora after her. He settled over her, his cock straining against his jeans to press against her center.

Poppy’s hands wrapped around his neck and the back of his head, pulling his mouth to her. Tora closed his eyes and kissed her hungrily.

_We shouldn’t. Not now,_ he thought to himself again.

But fuck, her hands left his neck and trailed seductively down to his waist. Her small, nimble fingers unbuttoned his jeans, and all thought evaporated out of Tora’s head. As her fingers moved to his zipper, her mouth came to the side of his neck. She found a length of skin not obscured by braids and kissed there.

Tora bent his head to her and reached under her pajama shirt—no bra. His hand massaged one of her soft breasts as a growl of pleasure hissed from between his teeth.

He helped kick off his pants, his dick bobbing free, encased only by boxers. Then he set to work unbuttoning her pajama shirt. Each released clasp revealed a little more of her smooth, creamy skin. His blood pounded low in his body. _Need_ burned through him.

She kissed him feverishly as he worked. First her soft, full lips were locked against his own. Then she moved to his neck as Tora bowed his head to sweep his eyes over the growing swath of uncovered skin. At last his fingers pried apart the final button and he pushed her shirt to either side.

His mouth dipped low to close around one of her nipples, sucking and nibbling it into a firm peak. One hand inched down to her waistband and dug under the fabric. Just then, Poppy tugged up at Tora’s shirt. He broke away to draw it over his head, the braids falling back against his chiseled, bare skin.

…and then Poppy pulled him down by the back of his neck. His body crushed against hers. Tora groaned at the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against the insides of her thighs. Her hand snaked between their bodies to wrap around the bulge of his shaft through his boxers.

Tora lifted himself so she could maneuver, then groped for her opening. His fingertips met with her slick desire, and he teased at her.

“Do you have a condom?” Poppy moaned.

Holy fuck, this was actually happening?

“Yeah,” Tora said, his own voice rough and husky with pure want.

“Good. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore.”

Tora froze. Poppy kept kissing his neck and fondling him through the fabric. _The fuck…?_

Slowly, he drew his hand away from her pussy, his fingertips wet with her, and pushed himself up and off. He knelt on his heels at the end of the bed and tried to think straight despite the overwhelming desire commanding him.

_She’s… a fucking virgin?_

“…Tora?”

Poppy sat up, reaching for him. He pushed her hand away and stood up off the bed.

It was not that virginity mattered to Tora, or that he thought it was up to him what she did with hers.

But the fact that she still was one meant…

She was waiting.

She’d never had a one-night stand. She didn’t just casually _fuck_ people. God fucking damn it, all his stupid ‘sleep with me’ comments. _Of course_ she didn’t fucking go the whole way with him before. He wasn’t a fucking _saint_ , but he wasn’t such trash to take this from her right now, in the state she was in.

He’d be taking advantage of her if he did. No matter how badly he wanted her, she would just end up regretting it. This couldn’t be what Poppy actually wanted. And sure as hell not with a thug like him.

“We aren’t doing this,” Tora said.

“Because I’m a virgin? Tora, it’s fine.” Poppy sat upright in the bed, her eyes wide and locked on him.

He shook his head wordlessly and hunted for his jeans, adjusting his throbbing erection as he zipped them up.

“It’s okay. I’m ready,” Poppy insisted, moving towards him.

“Not happening,” Tora growled. He turned his shirt right-side out before pulling it back over his head.

“So you _don’t_ want me?” she said softly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“Poppy, of course I fucking _want you._ but I’m not going to fucking take _advantage_ of you.” His voice was halfway between a yell and a growl, anger mixed with frustration. He had to look anywhere but her tits; he stared at the ceiling.

“You wouldn’t be. I _want_ this.” She got up and reached for him, taking hold of his waist with one hand, and touching his clothed cock with the other.

“What the fuck, Poppy!” Tora snapped. He jumped back and glared down at her. “Jesus Christ. Ya heard of consent? I said no!”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” She hurriedly threw herself back away from him. Poppy yanked the ends of the pajama shirt back over her chest as embarrassment and rejection slammed into her, flushing her face bright red.

He couldn’t stay there. It was too confusing, too difficult. All of a sudden it was too much, all of it. Hiding her, the motel, the errands, the fear for her life weighing on top of the everyday fear for his own that he’d always lived with.

How badly he wanted her, sexually, emotionally, in every way. How badly he wanted to believe she could want him back.

How close he’d come to burying himself inside her, and the conviction that she would hate herself and hate him and regret all of it if he had. The fact that he still felt about two seconds from climbing on top of her and shoving himself into her, because he still wanted to, so fucking badly, more than he’d ever wanted someone.

That he’d be no worse than a monster taking advantage of a drunk woman, because grief was its own intoxicant, and she wasn’t thinking straight, or she would never have suggested giving up on her waiting for _him,_ a killer she barely knew.

He grabbed his keys and barreled out the door barefoot, stopping only to lock the door behind him before he threw himself into his car and left.

As he sped down the road, Tora let himself imagine what would happen if, after she got through this, she came to him again and wanted him.

They could be together, right?

No, impossible. It would never happen. He would never have her. She would never be his, not even for a night.

He had to get her far away from Narin city, far away from all this, set her up with a fake ID, help her out with money until she could get her feet on the ground. And yeah, she would have to live the rest of her life as a lie, but she could still find someone better, someone halfway normal, not someone as violent and broken and twisted as _him_.

She wouldn’t want him then, would she?

No, she wouldn’t. If she’d known he really was a thug a few days ago, she probably wouldn’t have blown him or given him a hand job. He lit a cigarette with trembling fingers and climbed the road to thug’s pavilion.

Overwhelming. It was overwhelming. All of it. He should not have left while she was in an emotional state like that. Should have comforted her. But he couldn’t. It was a lot for _him_ , too, and he was exhausted. He wasn’t going through anything like she was, but it was taking its toll on him. Caring for someone. He wasn’t used to it.

He parked the car and found himself wishing for a moment that somebody could comfort him. _Stupid. Get your fucking act together._ He got out of the car and allowed himself one last cigarette, leaning against one of the concrete pillars and looking up at the old graffiti.

Once his mind calmed and cleared, Tora checked his phone and sighed.

He wanted a fucking night off, a night to himself. He needed to chill the fuck out. Play guitar, or put on a video game, or hit the gym and slip into an inner state of sweat and strain and mindlessness.

But the clan meeting was inching closer. He had to get food for Poppy first. Vincent would probably keep him busy until late night or early morning; he knew his boss was still mad at him for the notebook fiasco. Time to go.

He returned to the motel with a take-out bag of pasta, roasted fish, and a slice of cake. Tora leaned his head against the room door for a moment, bracing himself to face her, before turning the key and trying the door.

No chain or deadbolt.

She wasn’t on the bed.

She was in the bathroom, right?

“Poppy?” Tora called. No answer. He put down the bag on the nightstand and strode to the bathroom door just to make sure all was well.

The door was open, the interior empty.

Holy mother-fucking shit god damned _FUCKING HELL._

He tore out of the motel. Looked left, looked right. Grabbed his phone out of his pocket as he sprinted barefoot to his car. Threw himself inside, and dialed Poppy while jamming his key into the ignition, not sure where he was driving yet but knowing he had to find her, and fast.

Could someone have taken her? Or had she just run? She must have left willingly; there were no signs of struggle and the door had been locked. Fucking god, he _hoped_ she had left willingly. But where the fuck. What the fuck. She had to be safe. He couldn’t handle it if she wasn’t safe. Had someone seen her?

“Tora?” Poppy answered.

“Where the _hell_ are you?” he snapped, his heart strumming with terror.

“Woah, calm down,” she said. “I’m behind the motel.”

“Behind the…” he snapped, grabbing his keys and leaving the car. “What the fuck do you _mean_ , you’re behind the motel?” He slammed the door and began to stalk around the perimeter of the building, his golden eyes blazing furiously.

“I just needed some air,” Poppy said, her voice quivering.

He hung up and came around the corner.

He’d never bothered to go behind the motel before, but there was a small, quiet field there, hidden from the street but not from the motel at large; a few windows and doors opened to it.

Poppy was sitting in the grass, wearing the sunglasses he’d bought her, her sketchbook open on her lap and her flip phone open in her hand. For a moment, her hair took him by surprise; he wasn’t used to the new shade. She stared at him; at least, in his general direction—impossible to tell with the glasses.

He strode to her, long legs covering the distance quickly. Poppy flinched at the look in his eyes, but Tora fell to his knees and crushed her in a hug.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You scared the ever-living _shit_ out of me.”

“I just wanted some air,” Poppy muttered, her hands trembling.

“Damn it, Poppy.” He sat back on his heels, frowning at her. “You can’t just wander off like that without telling me.”

“It’s not like I went far,” she countered softly, trying to appease his displeasure.

“I thought someone _had you_ ,” Tora said. “Or that you just… left. Poppy, don’t you get it?” He took her shoulders. “If someone finds out about you, _we’re both dead_. You gotta tell me before you go anywhere, even out back. Or how the hell am I supposed to keep you safe?”

“I’m sorry,” Poppy said, her voice shaking.

“C’mon.” He stood up and offered her his hand. She hesitated for a moment, then put hers in his. Tora pulled her up.

The urge to kiss her was sudden and overwhelming. He didn’t give in to it, but settled for squeezing her hand hard instead, and did not let go of it as they walked back to the room.

There, he sank onto one of the beds, his heartbeat still fast from the fright. Poppy hovered in front of the doorway awkwardly, her hands clutching the sketchbook against her chest, her eyes trained on the floor.

Tora groaned and rested his elbows on his knees, bowing his head over.

“Look,” he said slowly. “I know this is… weird, and hard, and I… I don’t want you to feel like I’m ya fuckin’ keeper. But… Can you just deal with it? A little bit longer? I promise it isn’t gonna be like this forever.”

Poppy swallowed and bit her bottom lip. She nodded.

“Tora,” her voice was shaky. “I’m not… I’m so sorry. About earlier. I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. You don’t deserve that. I promise I won’t try anything again.”

_Won’t try anything again._

Even knowing that was for the best. Even knowing.

His heart contracted a little. He nodded, staring at the floor instead of her.

There was a long silence; Tora on the bed, Poppy at the door.

“I just don’t want you to regret anything,” Tora muttered at last.

“I don’t think I would,” Poppy said.

“You’re not in a place to know that,” Tora said. “Clearly you were waiting, and not for someone like _me_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Poppy said.

“It… whatever.” Tora stood up and dug in his bag for socks. He yanked them on and shoved his feet into sneakers. “Look, Poppy. I gotta work tonight. S’food on the table. Please be careful.”

He had to go right past her to get out the door. She shifted out of his way as he paced towards her.

At the last minute, his will buckled. He grabbed her shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead, then slammed out through the door before she could see the blush on his cheeks.

Tora sat in his car for a number of minutes, forehead on the steering wheel, before he remembered the braids. He couldn’t show up looking like that. He hesitated for a moment to take them out, the memory of her hands in his hair searing through him.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d never been like this before. Was he broken? Was he sick? It was just hair. She was just a woman.

Mumbling angrily to himself, he ripped out the hair-ties and untangled the braids, then yanked his hair back up in a half-bun. Tora flipped on the radio and began to drive.

\---

Tora peered into the envelope, then up at Smithy. Then back into the envelope.

Back up at Smithy, who shivered a little bit and gulped.

“It’s short,” Tora said.

Smithy cleared his throat.

“Mr. Balthuman adjusted your pay,” Smithy said.

“Smithy, this is less than a fucking watch-dog makes.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have anything to do with it,” Smithy said.

Tora glowered at him, took the bills out of the envelope, and shoved them in his pocket. The envelope went into a waste bin, and Tora went through the heavy double-doors to the conference room. It was wood paneled and lit with an ornate gold chandelier. A long, heavy table took up the full length of the room, lined with expensive swivel-chairs.

Martin, Claude, and Shing Ma were seated and chatting, all wearing suits. Martin took in Tora’s appearance: sneakers, dark jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt. The older man’s lip stiffened in anger.

“Again, Tora? Show some respect,” Martin snapped. “Where’s your _suit_?”

Tora met Martin’s eyes coldly for a moment, then slid into one of the chairs and lit a cigarette. He began to scroll through his phone.

He didn’t answer to fucking Martin.

\---

“Tora, Martin. A moment,” Vincent said as the clan elders and lieutenants filtered back out of the conference room.

Tora, Martin, and Vincent all stayed seated. The rest of the room emptied quickly.

“Pay was off,” Tora said before Vincent had a chance to speak.

“Oh, son.” Vincent chuckled and shook his head. “Surely you’re smarter than that?”

Tora said nothing, staring blankly at Vincent.

“You colossally _fucked up_ with that notebook,” Vincent said, raising his glass up idly and tilting his head at Tora. “Did you expect a pat on the back for acting like a god-damned fucking _idiot?”_

Tora clenched his jaw and said nothing. _So here we go_ , he thought.

“On that note.” Vincent took a sip of his drink and then stood. “You’ll be reporting to Martin, starting tonight, to pay up for everything you’ve cost me. And Tora?” Vincent set his glass down on the table. “Be careful not to fuck up again, son. I have no use for incompetent men.”

“…So?” Tora asked, turning to Martin. Martin sneered at him.

“Tonight, you can do whatever Scharch asks of you,” Martin said. That was a statement in and of itself, demoting Tora to taking orders from a clan lieutenant, like he was seventeen again. “Scharch is already aware and waiting outside for you.”

Tora pushed himself back from the table wordlessly and stalked out of the room. He did not see the weighing, considering look that Vincent trained on his back, or the way the crime lord’s eyebrows knotted together in thought.


	19. Wildflower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy and let me know what you think :)

The good thing about hunting with Scharch was that Scharch liked to do his own dirty work. That man seemed to enjoy spilling blood in a way that nobody should.

The bad thing was having to _watch_ Scharch do his dirty work.

Tora stood at the front end of an alleyway, blocking the businessman’s escape route. The poor guy limped and panted, trying to get away. Scharch circled him like a shark drawn to spilled blood. Tora lit a cigarette and leaned against the brick wall, eyes narrowed.

Fucking sick. Tora had probably killed as many people as Scharch ever had, but he never drew it out. It wasn’t something you were supposed to _enjoy_. It was just something you had to do now and then.

They already had the money. This was unnecessary.

As he watched, the tiger ran silent calculations in his head. He had some money saved, but he’d never thought about preparing for the future. How long was Vincent going to fuck with his pay? Motels and takeout didn’t cost much, but it added up. How much would a cabin somewhere remote cost—and did he still need to buy an old beater to drive around in—and how much money would Poppy need for her monthly expenses… maybe Tora could pick up some drug deliveries to earn extra cash; Vincent didn’t frown on freelance so long as it didn’t conflict with official duties.

_Crunch._ Scharch kicked the businessman down onto the concrete and smashed his ankle with a heel, smiling down sweetly at the target, who screamed and cried and begged to no avail.

Without a single expression flitting across his face, Tora slid his gun out of his waistband and lodged a bullet in the businessman’s forehead. He was going to die either way; why draw out the pain?

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Scharch snapped, his hands clapped over his ears to rub away the sudden loud ringing. Even with a silencer, the gun blast was as loud as a siren.

Tora shrugged and dropped the butt of the cigarette out of his mouth. He ground it under his heel as Scharch scowled and stalked past him.

By the time Scharch called quits, it was nearly 4 am. They drove together to drop off the earnings at headquarters, a precaution that prevented either from skimming off the top, then split ways.

Tora drove to his own home, closer to Ares street than the motel by far. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, then flipped on the light.

Concrete. Cigarette butts in an ashtray. Weights, empty drink cans. A couch with no blanket or pillow.

He stared bitterly at the trappings of his life, then turned out the light and locked the door behind him. His head was pounding, he was exhausted, he could barely keep his eyes open. But fuck if he was sleeping on the couch tonight.

\---

He had to call Poppy to unlock the deadbolt. She was asleep, and he didn’t want to wake up the entire building by pounding on the door.

“Sorry,” she mumbled into the phone. A moment later he heard the lock slide free, and then Poppy opened the door. The bedside lamp was on again, illuminating the room with a soft glow.

Her tired eyes blinked up at him, then suddenly widened. She took a half-step back, then another, and gulped.

“What?” Tora said, walking past her and closing the door.

“Is that… _blood?_ ” Poppy said. He looked down at what he was wearing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Tora muttered. He’d splashed water on his hands and face, but exhaustion had prevented thoroughness. He grabbed a clean shirt and boxers from his bag, then stomped to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

_If she had any doubts about who the fuck you are, that cleared it right the hell up._ He finished and toweled himself dry in the steamy room. Shirt and boxers went on over still-damp skin, his hair hanging wet and loose down his shoulders. Tora fought back a jaw-splitting yawn, hung up the towel, and padded back to his bed. The bloody clothes went in a pile next to his bag.

Poppy sat up in the other bed as he plugged his phone in. He set an alarm for just four hours—checkout was the next day, and they needed to move to a new motel.

“Sorry about that,” Tora grumbled, crawling into the bed. Ah, fuck, a mattress. He was so ready to close his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I’m making your life so hard, right now.” 

“S’fine, Poppy.” He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Just tired.” 

“I don’t know how to pay you back,” she said, pressing the matter.

“Don’t owe me,” he muttered sleepily.

“There must be something I can do.”

He cracked an eye and looked at her. Her face was taut with worry. She gripped bunches of her blanket in balled-up fists.

Tora lifted the edge of the blanket, inviting her to join him.

“You’re sure?” Poppy said.

“Just c’mere. Unless you're scared of me now.”

She left her bed and got into his again. He pulled her to him. Held her. Buried his face against the top of her head.

_This_ wasn’t wrong, was it? She herself said once that hugs were normal, that people did it all the time with friends.

It wasn’t _normal_ to Tora, but he could hold her without feeing bad, right? He wasn’t stealing from her or twisting her grief to his own ends. Right? This was what friends did.

Tangle their limbs together, breath against each other’s skin. Pull the other’s body a little closer. Run their hands up and down the other’s back. Twine their fingers together. Sure. Just what friends did.

His last conscious thought was that he didn’t care either way whether it was wrong. Then sleep took over, spinning him off down a long, strange road of dreams.

\---

They loaded the car in the morning. Poppy strapped Sake’s cage into a backseat. There was a drop box for the keys, so he didn’t need to deal with the front desk. After using it, Tora leaned against the car for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Poppy asked. He nodded and got in the driver’s seat.

He looked up motels on his phone and picked one on the other side of the city’s outskirts. It’d be forty-five minutes to get there now, but not such a bad commute in and out of Ares street. He was too tired to drive and navigate, so he handed his phone to Poppy.

“Tell me where to go,” Tora said.

The ride was silent apart from her pointing out exits or telling him where each turn was. He parked and checked in. The interior was barely different from the last; different colors, different art, but a motel was a motel. No sooner had they carried everything inside than Tora threw himself onto the nearest bed and passed back out.

The phone rang at noon. Tora blinked awake to the buzzing in his pocket and tugged it out. He rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Quince?” He muttered, holding it to his ear.

“I need you to beta read.”

“Alright.”

“Now. Come over.”

“Gimme an hour. Or so.” Tora hung up. He closed his eyes for another moment, then sighed and sat upright. He had to figure out food for Poppy before he could leave. Maybe he should think about renting something with a kitchenette tomorrow night, instead of a motel. Even just a fridge and a microwave would save him so much time.

Blinking down at his phone, he noticed a text from Poppy.

_If you wake up and I’m gone, I’m right outside_

She wasn’t gone. She was sitting on the other bed, reading one of the books he’d brought her. The text was from nearly an hour and a half ago.

“Get some air?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. Um, actually.” She closed the book as a blush rose to her cheeks. Poppy climbed off the bed and walked to a small side-table. Tora followed her movement and noted that this motel, too, had a coffee maker and a stack of cups.

One of the cups sat to the side, its lip bursting with colorful flowers. Poppy grabbed it and brought it over to him.

“I know you probably aren’t a flower guy. I mean, tattoo aside. But I couldn’t exactly buy or cook you anything, so…”

He took the flowers from her as she tucked her hair back behind her ears.

“You picked these?” Tora asked, staring down at them.

“Uh-huh. There’s a bunch around the motel.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. To say thank you.”

“Oh.” Tora said. Nobody had given him flowers before. “Shit. Um. Thanks, Poppy.”

“You want some coffee?”

“Please,” he said, still holding the flower-cup with both his hands.

\---

“Alright, honey. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Just read ya stupid book,” Tora said, lighting a cigarette.

Quincey folded his arms and stared down at his bodyguard, who lounged on the couch with his legs spread wide.

“I _know_ that girl meant something to you.”

“Shut up, Quince. I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Something’s going on, Tora. You call me out of the blue, _beg_ me to meet with her—you _never_ beg me, not for anything—show up in the same clothes as the day before, then all of a sudden it’s ‘ _this meeting never happened’_ and ‘ _she was never here’_ and next thing I know, there are vigils and protests and everybody’s talking about free press and missing journalists. And now your face can’t decide whether to scowl or smile.”

Tora narrowed his eyes at Quincey and drew a long, slow drag on his cigarette. It was a real pain in the ass to have someone know him as well as Quincey did. He got up off the couch and grabbed a game controller, hitting power on the T.V. remote as he passed it.

“Tora, I mean it. You can trust me.”

“You lie to me about that beta reading shit, or what?”

“I just want to know what’s happening.”

“You wanna know what’s happening, watch the fucking news,” Tora muttered and fell back onto the couch.

Quincey grabbed the T.V. remote and turned the screen back off. Tora glared at him. 

“Listen here, you fuck,” Tora said. “You gonna read or should I just go?”

Quincey sat down next to Tora and put a hand on Tora’s shoulder. The big man shrugged it off with _tch_.

“You know I’d help you, right?” Quincey said softly. “You can trust me, Tora.”

He put the hand back and Tora smacked him gently on the back of the head while growling “I said _fuck off,_ Quinceton.”

“Hey! You said no hitting for a month!” Quincey yelped, his eyes prickling with tears. Even a gentle hit from Tora hurt. “You’re the worst, you know that? Christ, I’m trying to help you!”

“You wanna help me, stop sticking ya nose in my shit,” Tora said. He leaned forward and grabbed the T.V. remote, turning the screen back on.

“Knew it,” Quincey muttered. He rubbed the back of his head and got up to grab his notebook. “Just promise you’ll come to me if you get in trouble.”

“Just read, Princess,” Tora muttered, flipping open a shooter game and leaning back against the couch, cigarette dangling from his lips.


	20. Tiger, Elephant, Tree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for gross violent bits, watch out friends!

A passerby on the street would notice nothing. The corner store was locked for the night, its lights out and a chain across the door. A little cardboard sign with the word _CLOSED_ hung on the interior of the glass door, facing out to the busy street.

The well-lit backroom was a different matter. Boxes of dried goods and household items lined the walls. Two black backpacks full of cocaine sat by the door, ready to be taken out to the car.

Puddles and splotches of blood marked the floor. Three men filled the middle of the room.

Martin stood with his arms folded in front of him. From the rings on his fingers to his impeccable suit, he clearly had no business in a store like this.

Tora was well-dressed, too, by Martin’s orders. But though the black suit revealed nothing of his violent evening, the white dress shirt under it was speckled red. The tiger kept his mouth slack and his eyes dead of emotion.

On the floor, a pot-bellied, blood covered man crawled towards the door, one of his fingers at an odd angle. Tora kicked him back towards the middle of the room.

“Please,” the bloody man choked out between thick, ragged sobs. “Please, please.” He’d said nothing but that word for the last ten minutes.

“Again, Tora,” Martin said.

Tora broke a second finger as a strangled wail sprang from his victim. He glanced at Martin, who nodded. Tora broke a third finger.

“ _Please_ ,” the man whimpered. “Please. I don’t know anything else.”

“I’m not here for information,” Martin said. “You shorted me. Personally. Again, Tora.”

\---

They left the store separately. A plum colored Rolls-Royce phantom pulled in front of the store right as Martin stepped outside. He slid into the back seat and was driven off, not a speck of blood on his suit.

It was Tora, blood-covered and weary, who left out the back with a modest fortune of cocaine. He tossed the bags into his trunk and stripped off his shirt in the shadowed, empty lot. There was a relatively clean t-shirt in the back of his trunk; at least, not bloody. He grabbed a plastic water bottle and poured a cup over his hands, rubbing them together and then rinsing again as red, bloody water splattered on the gravel of the lot. He slammed the trunk door closed, then drove to the distribution house with an eye over his shoulder the whole time.

The drop-off was quick and easy, and a weight evaporated from his shoulder as the drugs left his hands. Tora pulled out his phone to text Martin that he was done.

Ten minutes to midnight, and life was his own again. He called Poppy from the car.

“Hey.”

“You awake?”

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Ya hungry, sweetheart?”

“Kind of. Are you done already?”

“Yeah. Alright, I’m getting some food.”

“See you soon.”

He hung up and leaned back in his seat, browsing restaurants near him on his phone. Inspiration struck after a moment, and Tora typed _opera cake_ into the search bar. He hoped Poppy would smile when he repaid that particular small debt.

A number of restaurants came up, but only two were open late. He called one.

“Cote D’—” someone started to say.

“Is ya kitchen open?” Tora interrupted.

“…Tora?”

“Gyu? The fuck, man.” Damn. Better not to be recognized. How many fucking restaurants did Gyu work at? Well, he couldn’t hang up now.

“Yeah, boss. We were closing up. I’ll tell chef to keep it open for you.”

“Just want takeout,” Tora said.

“Sure thing. What can I get you, bro?”

Tora hesitated for a moment. Then he gave in.

“…ya got any opera cake?” he grumbled.

“…yeah. You… want that?” Gyu had never seen Tora eat a dessert before.

“Got a craving,” Tora mumbled. “And I’m real fucking hungry. Steak. Chicken. whatever’s good. A few things.”

“Okay. Um, well we have…”

“I don’t fucking care. Just pick good shit.” Tora hung up.

\---

Poppy sat on the edge of one of the beds, carefully folding a t-shirt. The beds themselves were immaculately made, the sheets and blankets pulled as tight and straight as any expert maid had ever managed. All the surfaces had been tidied; even their toiletries by the sink marched in a uniform row, hers on one side, his on the other.

“Spring cleaning?” Tora asked, locking the door behind him.

“I’m going crazy suck in here,” Poppy muttered, with a sheepish half-smile. “I feel like a caged animal.”

_Caged animal_. He knew what that was about. Tora frowned and looked at her.

“You wanna get some air?”

“Yeah. Out back?”

“Nah. Drive somewhere. Nice night for a picnic.”

“… _can we?_ ” Poppy said, her eyes wide and her shoulders tensing with excitement. Tora laughed soundlessly.

“Yeah. C’mon.”

She tugged on her shoes and practically ran out the door ahead of him.

“Where are we going?” Poppy asked in the car, her eyes brighter than they had been in days.

“Ya remember that overlook?”

“Overlook?” Poppy thought for a moment, then blinked. Her face fell a little, causing Tora to wince internally “Um… the one where you…”

_Yelled at you, told you all your friends were dead, and that there was a hit on you? Yeah, that one. Nice romantic spot, huh?_

“I know it’s probably not ya _fondest_ memory, but. S’a place we can be alone.” He wrapped his hands tight around the steering wheel.

Poppy took a deep breath, sorrow flitting across her expression.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Sorry.”

“No. Let’s do it.” Determination replaced the sadness in her eyes. Tora nodded and started the car. Maybe they could make a new memory, a better one, over the words he’d said to her before.

Besides, she had never seen the view at night, with all the lights of the city sprawled out below. If her love of her rooftop and her balcony had been any indication, she was sure to like it.

\---

Two in the afternoon, the next day. Tora and Poppy lay side by side in bed, propped up against the headboards by pillows. Poppy lay under the blankets, watching a re-run of some old show on the motel television. Her sorrowful expression didn’t match the constant laugh track behind the stiff, poorly aged jokes; her mind lingered elsewhere.

Tora played a game on his phone, his thumbs tapping enemy soldiers as he navigated through a warehouse. His bored expression was occasionally interrupted by a glare of frustration as he missed a shot or took a hit.

Poppy slowly leaned to the side, resting her head against his shoulder. He glanced down at the top of her head in mild surprise. A slight smile broke onto his face. Tora let go with one of his hands, wrapping his arm around her and cradling her against him. He went back to the game one-handed, then quickly realized it was impossible to play like that.

He closed out of the game and stared at the T.V. screen instead. A cookie-cutter family was yelling at each other, waving their hands in the air as they ran about the kitchen and argued about some big holiday meal. What was _that_ like?

His phone buzzed. Vincent.

_Come to my office immediately._

\---

The great old house was quiet and orderly. Smithy let him in and stood aside as Tora paced to Vincent’s office. His footsteps were soft on the thick Persian rugs that ran the length of the hallway. He rapped his knuckles on the heavy oak office door, then pushed it open.

Vincent sat behind his desk. A number of other men were in the room. Scharch, Claude. Others he recognized but barely knew. Tora was a few steps inside when a sting stabbed into the back of his neck. The sensation was as sharp as a wasp’s jab. Tora clapped his hand to the mark and tugged out a thin dart, spinning to the attacker.

All eyes in the room watched Tora warily. A few of them took a step or two towards him, body language clearly ready for a fight.

This was not an attack on Vincent, but an attack from him.

_Set up._

Not one to go down without a fight, he lunged towards the thin man holding a dart gun, the only figure between Tora and the doorway.

Something was wrong. Concrete in his shoes. Had they always been so heavy? Molasses in his brain. Lead in his legs.

With his first step, he moved like a tiger.

With his second, he moved like an elephant.

With the third, he moved like a tree. Which is to say, he didn’t so much step as simply fall. Tora crashed to the ground as Vincent stood up and came forward from behind his desk.

“Tie his wrists. Quickly. He won’t be out long.”


	21. To Break a Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a two chapter kind of day -shrug-

He retained consciousness. Rope wound around Tora’s wrists. He tried to struggle, to rip his hands away and kill the asshole binding him. But every movement was weak and slow, like travelling through molasses.

“Still awake?” Vincent asked.

Tora moved to answer. His lips felt numb; he couldn’t make sound come out. But Vincent saw the motion and nodded.

“Good.”

Tora tried to remember what he knew about tranquilizers. Dangerous to use on people, hard to get the dosage right. But Vincent must have prepared it with his height and weight in mind. Either Tora was lucky, or Vincent had purposely lowballed the quantity to make sure he didn’t overdose. Impossible to know. With Vincent, it could be either.

“You did this to yourself, Tora,” Vincent said. “I know you’ve been lying to me for some time, now. I can see it in your face, something’s changed. And you haven’t spent a night at home in days. You’ve barely been there at all. Never at Quincey’s. Don’t you know how much it hurts me when you get disobedient like this?” Vincent’s voice was cajoling.

Someone—Tora couldn’t see who, they were behind him—rifled through his pockets. Keys, cigarettes, lighter, phone. He felt his finger being pressed against the sensor to unlock it, and then the phone was handed to Vincent.

“Who’s this ‘P’ you keep messaging, Tora? ‘ _I’m going out for air?’ ‘I’ll let you know when I’m headed back?’ ‘Do you want dumplings or ramen?’_ Are you playing house with someone, son?” As each word left Vincent’s mouth, his tone turned darker, angrier, sliding to a dangerous place.

Stupid. Stupid to leave the fucking P. Should have saved her as Bob. No, stupid to leave the messages at all. He should have been deleting each one after it sent.

Vincent scrolled and tapped on the screen, poking around what other secrets might be on the phone. He opened maps and looked at the recent history. Restaurants, motels. He looked at Tora.

“Not that girl. Surely. Poppylan.” His voice was cold and brutal now. Loveless.

Vincent tossed the phone carelessly on the ground. Slowly, his movement controlled and casual, he strolled to a white golf bag that stood beside a marble sideboard. He gripped a putter and turned on Tora.

“You goddamned idiot,” Vincent howled suddenly, as all illusion of restraint evaporated. The flat, wide edge of the clubhead came whistling down on one of Tora’s arms. “Everybody!” _Whack._ “Who read!” _Whack._ “That DAMNED notebook!” _Whack._ “Is supposed to be DEAD!”

In a distant, detached, way Tora could feel that nothing was breaking. It was just going to bruise. The hits were contained to his arm; no organs were at risk. Vincent didn’t want him dead, at least not yet. Maybe Tora could make it through this.

Vincent flipped the angle of the club and brought the narrow, bladed edge of the iron down on Tora with all the condensed rage the mafia boss possessed. The skin split where the club struck, and blood welled at the spot.

Vincent stopped swinging. He threw the club violently to the side and stared down at the man he’d raised, venom in his eyes.

“What are _YOU_ staring at?” he bellowed to the men around the room, who shuffled their feet but didn’t leave.

Vincent huffed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he bared his perfect, pearly teeth at Tora. He swept a stray strand of grey hair back out of his face.

“If you left that girl alive, you’re going to watch her die a _very_ slow death before you join her.”

The crime lord pointed to Scharch and Claude. 

“Shan Motel. Route 12, just south of the city. Go find out what Tora’s been up to. If that girl isn’t dead yet, I want her alive. But don’t be gentle.”

\---

Two sentences, not twenty seconds apart: that was how long it took to sever, once and for all, the bonds of loyalty that tied Tora to Vincent Balthuman.

_You’re going to watch her die a very slow death._

_Don’t be gentle._

To understand the magnitude of that severance, you would have to understand what Vincent meant to Tora. The ties of loyalty that bound Tora to Vincent Balthuman had taken years to build and had withstood countless acts of anger, blood, and pain.

Yes, Vincent had beaten him, caged him, yelled at him, brutalized him. Yes, Tora hated Vincent. Feared him, even.

But though Tora had violated Vincent’s orders more than once. Though saving Poppy was not the first time his obedience failed its test. Though he hated his job, hated his life, hated the way his days were spent. Through all of it. Despite all of it. Above all of it. At his core, he was unshakably loyal to the crime lord—until those fateful words left Vincent’s lips.

Vincent was the man who took him in. The man who raised him. The man who housed him, who clothed him, who called him _son_ , who celebrated his successes, who bought him gifts. His first teacher.

The man Tora had been crafted, molded, battered into pleasing.

Tora had spent his life trying to satisfy Vincent, trying to earn scraps of praise, tiny fluttering threads of anything that felt like love. As a young child nothing was more valuable to him than the rare, small moments of affection Vincent offered.

Between the poundings, the yelling, the insults, the pain, Tora had lived for those small moments. A pat on the back. A compliment. A new pair of shoes. Vincent had told Tora time and time again how lucky Tora was to have been taken in by him. How much Vincent had sacrificed to raise Tora. How Tora owed every _single_ thing in his life to Vincent.

As a child, Tora had believed him, and felt flooded with guilt at every mistake he made. His fault Vincent hit him. His fault Vincent didn’t love him more. As an adult, Tora had not thought twice about why he felt in so much debt to Vincent.

All he knew was, everything had a price. He’d been paying his debt his whole life, but it never seemed to shrink. Tora refined his skills until he was the strongest member of the Balthuman clan, the best shot, the fastest, the most brutal; he became the perfect killing machine Vincent asked for, but still. Still the love was infrequent, sparse, meager. Tora did everything Vincent asked of him, and nothing changed. So Tora had stopped trying, had stepped back, had accepted finally that he _hated_ Vincent.

But he had not stopped wanting his approval. 

_Don’t be gentle…_ with Poppy.

 _You’re going to watch her die a very slow death…_ his Poppy.

Two sentences.

Twenty seconds.

The ties shattered and left nothing but loathing behind.

\---

Scharch and Claude left. Half the room emptied. Tora looked around slowly, first with just his eyeballs, then slightly tilting his head. Vincent was pouring a drink, his back to Tora. Smithy was on his knees, picking up shards of pottery from some earlier snap of rage.

Tora flexed his fingers experimentally. He willed one foot to move, then the other. Satisfied, he stopped moving again.

If he made it known that he was capable of… well, _anything_ , he might get another dose or a hit on the head.

“There’s a cage behind the east wing of the house,” Vincent said. “I want him locked in there until we hear back.”

A lance of fear. He knew that cage, knew it well. Like _fuck_ was he going back there. Like _fuck_ was he sitting in there while Scharch and Claude were rough with his girl.

Two big guys came into view, and Tora felt himself being hauled to his feet. They held him up by his armpits. Tora let them handle his whole weight, allowing his feet to drag rather than stumbling along with them.

They dragged him out of the office and around the corner.

Tora knew the house like the back of his hand. The plan came quickly. They dragged him towards the mud room, the closest exit to the cage—and also the room that servants and the chauffer entered through.

Just as they passed through the doorway to the mudroom Tora sprung to life. He still felt like he was made of lead, but even with his hands bound and his muscles moving at half-speed he was a force to be reckoned with. More so because he had the element of surprise, and the men were tiring from dragging his weight.

Tora rammed the back of one man’s knees, causing him to buckle; spun and kicked through the front of the other’s knee, shattering the bone. Danced back out of reach, then snapped his knee into the face of the first man; then spun and slammed the front of his shin against the other’s temple. One more kick to each of their heads. They were out, maybe dead, but the whole house had to be coming after him at this point.

He sprinted to the door; his tired, drugged limbs made the ‘run’ more of a ‘jog.’ Turned his back to the key rack and grabbed a fistful of different keys; put his hand on the door and fiddled blindly with the lock before he got it open and pushed himself through.

As Tora hustled to the garage, keys biting into his palms, he kept yanking out with both arms, testing the strength of the bond. His injured arm screamed every time he pulled, but it was bearable. He could work through pain; nothing was broken. He kept testing.

The bond didn’t break, but he thought it was loosening. Maybe a little?

He crashed through a side door to the garage. Ten cars were lined up inside, ready to be taken out at Vincent’s pleasure.

He dropped the keys onto the ground to make his hands as small as possible. Tora wiggled his wrists. Yes, it was looser. He tugged and wriggled until the rope was up around the width of his hand, and then the rope was falling off.

Tora grabbed the keys—he’d managed to get four—and started to smash the unlock buttons on all of them, waiting for a set of headlights to reveal his new ride.

_Please be something stupid fast. Stupid fucking fast._ He had to get to Poppy before Scharch and Claude, and they had a substantial head start. Not a damn luxury sedan, not a limo or a fancy town car.

The bright red Lamborghini Aventador sat so low to the ground that the shape of the car had to curve up to accommodate its wheels. It was aerodynamically sleek, the front hood sharpening to a point, the back capped with a spoiler. Its lights winked at him as he hit the button on the final key.

Thank god even crime lords had midlife crises. 


	22. No Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW violence
> 
> As always I look forward to hearing any and all reactions!
> 
> I'm so sorry if the car scene is boring. Car videos in the notes below if anybody is into that kinda thing...

Tora tugged at the door to the Aventador. It opened practically on its own, the door springing not out but _up_ in a motion like scissors splitting open. He slid the seat back as far as he could and jumped in. The door closed as smoothly as it had opened.

A start engine button rather than a keyhole. The car growled to life as Tora found and activated the garage remote that all Vincent’s cars had. Raw power from the engine rumbled through Tora’s body.

“Fucking runt-ass car,” Tora muttered to himself. His legs were too long for comfort even with the seat back and his head nearly grazed the roof. Low, speedy cars were not meant for men like him.

The garage door slowly churned open. He disengaged the parking brake, crunched onto the brake pedal, and tossed the car into drive. He had just enough time to adjust the mirror down before the door was open high enough for the Aventador to creep below its lip.

His tired eyes focused on the opening, making a final judgment about the height. Through the gap he could see men rushing towards the garage. Behind him, the side door he’d taken sprung back open. Tora did not wait to see who came through it.

He smashed his foot down onto the gas, pushing it flat to the floor. The car roared and lurched forward. Tora slammed back against the seat as it accelerated faster than any vehicle he’d driven before. 

The Aventador could go over 200 mph, but Tora eased off the gas just before it got that far. The landscape changed too fast for his drugged mind to react to. The car moved faster than Vincent’s men could track with their gun sights.

In three seconds, he had reached and passed 60 mph. In six, he’d passed 100. Tora swung the low red car around the long, lazily curved driveway of the estate, one wheel edging off the road to rip up the manicured grass. And nineteen seconds after Tora had hit the gas, the Aventador was up to 163 and careening left onto the roadway.

He took the turn too sharply and the car fishtailed, sliding left and right across the road until he recovered his traction. After that, Tora drove at a respectable 110, well over the speed limit but within his ability to control.

He’d go faster if it weren’t for the drugs, but he could feel how heavy his eyelids were. Things happened around him faster than he could keep track of them. Gritting his teeth in determination, he kept his hands light on the wheel; the Aventador jumped and twitched at his slightest urging. Like a hummingbird he flitted back and forth between lanes, needling his way forward through the afternoon traffic. With his reaction time slowed, every car he passed was a near collision that the tiger barely avoided.

Two drivers were side by side, only going 75 and blocking the roadway. Tora cursed and tailed one, then slammed the horn. The driver at last sped up and got over; boom, Tora floored the gas and was over 100 again.

He hoped it was fast enough to make it to Poppy before Scharch and Claude. Unless or until Vincent called them, they wouldn’t be in a rush to beat anybody there. Could he close the gap?

Switching lanes, he glanced by habit up into the rear view mirror. Back to the road, kept driving. Back to the rearview. Then he scowled.

From a distance, the black car seemed unassuming.

The problem was, it was gaining on Tora, threading between lanes and creeping closer to the Aventador. Tora focused ahead of him, dodging cars and sliding around corners. But every time his eyes flitted to the mirror the other car was closer.

Now he could see the tell-tale Bugatti tombstone shape on the front of the hood.

_Fuck._ Now _that_ was a fast car, and the driver wasn’t drugged.

No chance of trying to lose it with unexpected turns. Anybody Vincent sent already knew just where Tora was headed.

He didn’t have a gun; he couldn’t take out the tires or get the other driver.

He could think of only one way to slow down the Bugatti Veyron steadily gaining on him, and it was a gamble.

Tora slowed down and began edging back and forth against the car next to him, not touching it, just harassing the driver. He shot forward again as the driver swerved to avoid him, cut in front of another driver, hit the brakes hard; sped off just as the car behind him slammed to a stop. A few similar maneuvers that made his earlier speeding look respectable and mild-mannered next to this display of maniac driving.

Then the Aventador shot forward like a bullet. In the rear view, a pile of cars spun, crashed, and flipped, forming a smoking barricade the Bugatti could not get around.

_Hope whoever the hell’s driving it crashes,_ Tora thought to himself, and turned his focus back forward. The way his eyes kept slipping shut, he needed to focus everything in him to avoid a collision himself.

\---

The parking lot of Shan motel was calm. Cars whizzing past the neighboring highway provided a steady background rumble, against which songbirds peeped and chirped.

In a sudden explosion of color, a red sports car spun into the lot. It skidded in a half-circle to stop in the center of the lot, taking up bits of three different spots and leaving deep indentations in the gravel. The driver’s door scissored up and a giant man surged up out of the seat. He took off towards one of the motel doors, his legs and arms pumping as he pushed his body past its limits. Blood smeared one of his arms, obscuring a tattoo-sleeve of peonies and curling leaves.

Tora threw himself against the door to room four. The knob twisted; already unlocked. His heart lurched at that small fact as he threw it open.

And then for a moment his heart stopped entirely.

Claude lounged against the wall. Poppy was on the ground with Scharch straddling her.

Claude turned as Tora entered the room, looking like he’d seen a ghost, but Tora spent no time on him. All focus was on Poppy and the man hurting her.

Scharch slowly twisted one of Poppy’s arms up behind her, a soft smile on his face. Her other arm covered her face as a cry of pain tore out of her mouth.

Scharch barely had time to process Tora’s entrance before Tora lunged forward and tackled him, knocking Scharch onto the ground with Tora on top of him. The two men tumbled next to Poppy. Tora knelt up off the ground and began smashing Scharch’s face open with his fists.

He stood and kicked Scharch to the side as Poppy scrambled up beside him.

Claude turned to run. _Like fuck._

Tora sprang forward and grabbed Claude by the back of his shirt, yanking the MMA fighter back. The tiger spun Claude and slammed a knee into his stomach, then grabbed the back of Claude’s neck, forced down his head, and slammed a knee into Claude’s face.

Poppy screamed. He spun, expecting Scharch, but Scharch was motionless—lifeless?—on the ground. She was screaming at _him_ , at Tora. Not Scharch.

Him.

Okay. Enough.

“Get your bag,” he snapped.

He wanted to grab her and check her all over for wounds, check her arm. He wanted to kiss the hell out of her because she was alive. But after what she’d just seen… and besides, there was no time.

They had to leave, and quickly. 

The motel was a crime scene. That Bugatti Veyron and the rest of Vincent’s men couldn’t be that far behind. And there was no way the cops hadn’t been called to chase down the bright red Aventador that had careened down the highway and caused a pile-up.

For all those reasons, they couldn’t take the Aventador. It was far too conspicuous. Tora patted Claude’s pockets The man wheezed through his bloody face. _May or may not live_. Tora found a set of keys and a wallet, and took both. He grabbed his bag from the foot of the bed. Every second counted in a get away, but there was money in there, and they were going to need it.

If he had the clarity of mind to think, he would have been proud of Poppy. Despite her tendency to freeze, she’d sprung into action at his command. She jammed her meager belongings into her bag, running to the sink and sweeping both their toiletries in as well.

Tora grabbed the bag from her to urge her out the door. But Poppy broke to the side and started gathering Sake’s supplies.

“No time,” Tora snapped. All they could waste time on was what they needed to survive.

But she ignored him and turned to shove the cage into his arms. It was easier to take it than to argue.

She was working mostly one-handed. She could move the other arm, but barely did so. He needed to check her out as soon as they got away and make sure she didn’t need medical attention.

They ran outside. Tora yanked the motel door closed behind them.

People were probably watching out their doors and windows after the screaming, but fuck. No time to think about it. With the bags in one hand and the cage in both arms, he fumbled for the keys and clicked the unlock button.

Claude’s car was a Lexus LS, perfectly nice but nothing compared to the Aventador. That was a good thing, really. It would actually blend in, unlike the half-a-million dollar sports car.

Poppy wrenched open the back door and threw in Sake’s supplies. Tora put the cage on the roof as he opened the driver door. He threw the seat back, tossed the bags over it into the rear, and handed the hamster cage over the seat to Poppy. She cradled it in her lap as Tora sat down and turned on the car.

Then they left the parking lot, driving at a normal speed like regular people on a regular day—if you didn’t look in and see that the driver was covered in blood.

Onto the road.

Just before turning a corner, the rear view mirror revealed a half-dozen police cars, lights and sirens blaring, turning one after the other into the parking lot of the Shan motel.

Tora’s heart thumped. Sweat dripped down his back. His eyes fluttered closed. He snapped them open. Fluttered closed again.

“Can you drive?” He managed to say, his lips heavy.

He’d thought the tranquilizer was fading. It wasn’t. The effects suddenly seemed to be getting worse, perhaps spurred by his fast-pumping heart and the fighting.

“Yeah,” Poppy squeaked. Tora turned down a side road and stopped the car.

Later he wouldn’t remember getting out of the car or stumbling towards the passenger seat. He wouldn’t remember Poppy putting Sake on the floor in the back, or leaning across Tora to grab the seat belt and buckle him in. He wouldn’t remember telling her to get them as far from the city as she could and to wake him up if they got below a quarter tank.

His eyes shut to darkness.

Poppy put the car into drive and took back to the road. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even a car person but I did some research to write this, so if anybody is curious (shrug):
> 
> [This is the dumb as hell pretentious commercial that made Vincent buy the Aventador  
>    
>  ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j_Oef0mN80)  
> [And then this mess costs 2.5 million because why wouldn't Vincent own that](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cM3V8dyhJSs)


	23. First Aid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kind comments!

Pain and pressure. He swam to consciousness and emerged, briefly, from a thick and cloying fog of nothing.

Tora’s arm throbbed. His eyes split, then shut against the bright light of the day. Split again. Looked.

The car was parked by the side of a road. Poppy faced him from the driver’s seat, wrapping a shirt around his arm and tying it tight. 

“You need to go to a hospital,” she said, seeing he was awake. He was groggy. Couldn’t make out the emotion in her voice. Couldn’t tell where they were. It was like he was floating. He locked on to the word _hospital_.

“No. No hospital,” Tora groaned.

“We’re going.”

“No.”

“Tora, you can’t even stay awake. You’ve lost too much blood.” Still couldn’t tell anything apart from the words. Could barely tell the words. _Can’t awake, you, blood._ A struggle not to pass back out, pass back under, sink below unconsciousness. But he knew they couldn’t go to a hospital. Even before turning fugitive and running from Vincent, clan protocol had been hammered into his bones. _No hospital._ Not unless it was that or death.

He had to convince Poppy he was okay.

“No. Not from blood. Drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“Drugged me. Arm’s fine. No hospital.”

“Tora…”

"M'fine. Just need sleep."

"I can't lose you."

“ _No hospital_ ,” he mumbled. Then unconsciousness dug into him like weights tied to his feet, dragging him down to a swallowing, empty darkness. 

\---

Tora did not wake again until evening. The sun inched down on golden countryside, rolling hills with mountains beyond them. The falling light hit the ground at an angle, painting the landscape into swathes of shadow and light.

They were parked under the shade of a small grove of trees a little way off the road. Barns and fences dotted the hills. The street nearby was a small one-lane. Poppy stared straight ahead, leaning back in the driver's seat.

“Where’r we?” Tora said. He swallowed. His throat was dry.

Poppy turned to him, her mouth slightly parted.

“You’re awake,” she cried. “Oh, _thank god_. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tora mumbled. “Your arm?”

“It hurts,” Poppy admitted. Her hands trembled, and she looked exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. A second from breaking down.

“Hey. We got away,” Tora said. “Gonna be fine, Bobby. I got ya.”

“If you say so,” she muttered back.

Tora peered around the landscape. Nobody in view. Even if there was a figure, say, inside one of the barns, nobody could reach them before they’d be able to speed off again. He felt exposed, but at least they could see if anybody was coming. He'd just have to keep an eye on the road.

His head hurt and exhaustion lingered in his bones. The drugs weren’t out of his system. They probably wouldn’t be for hours. He felt sluggish, but he was awake.

“Get out,” Tora said, and reached to open the car door. As the door swung open his ears filled with the loud buzzing of cicadas, emanating from the grove they parked in.

He moved slowly, and Poppy came around to him. She reached for the passenger door, seemingly thinking they were switching spots, but Tora gently took a hold of her injured arm.

“Tell me when it hurts,” he said. He turned it one way, then the other. Poppy winced and nodded both times.

“Is it dislocated?” she said, tears prickling her eyes from pain.

He slid his hand under the shoulder of her shirt and placed a thumb against her skin. He pressed softly, feeling around the injury.

“Ow,” Poppy said.

“No. Not dislocated.” Tora frowned, then inspected the other shoulder for a comparison. The injured one was certainly swollen, though not badly.

“I think it’s just sprained. You’ll be okay, but ya gotta rest it.” He leaned back against the car.

“What about your arm?” Poppy said quietly. “There… there’s a lot of blood.”

He looked down at the bloody shirt she’d tied over the wound. They had very different definitions of _a lot of blood_. Tora touched it with his other hand and felt it was dry even at the base.

“Stopped bleeding. Just gotta clean it.”

With any luck, Claude had a first aid kit in the car. Most clan members did. The laceration would be fine—he’d had worse, and it didn’t need stitches—but infection could be deadly. He’d have to find a way to sterilize it, or risk going to a drug store. Poppy needed a sling for her arm, but he could rig something from what they had.

Poppy fed Sake while Tora popped Claude’s trunk and took inventory.

Gym bag. Contents: hand wraps, gym clothes (smelled clean enough), heavy sparring gloves, half-empty water bottle, mouth guard, cup, a knee wrap, tiger balm.

In a milk crate: jumper cables, duct tape, flashlight, rope.

Strapped to the top of the trunk, a loaded 9mm Glock. Sixteen bullets in the magazine, one in the chamber. Tora took the gun and put it in his waistband.

First aid kit, thank fucking god. Contents: band aids, gauze pads, gauze wrap, antibiotic ointment, aspirin, medical tape, alcohol wipes.

He grabbed the water-bottle from the gym bag and popped two of the aspirin.

“Poppy,” he said. She had finished feeding Sake and came when called. He put two of the aspirin pills in her good hand, then handed her the water bottle once they were in her mouth.

Tora grabbed the tiger balm from the gym bag.

“Gonna do ya shoulder,” he informed her. The smell of menthol and camphor filled his nose as he unscrewed the container. He scooped some of the ointment out on his fingertips, lifted the shoulder of her shirt with his other hand, and tenderly rubbed the balm onto her skin. Poppy stood very still, her hands dangling at her side. For a moment their eyes met, and Tora’s breath caught.

“That feels nice,” Poppy said, blushing.

“Hey, if ya wanted a massage, all you—”

“I’m talking about the balm, you thug!”

He wasn’t sure if that was a term of endearment, after what she’d seen him do. Tora finished rubbing the balm into her skin and drew his hand away. He closed the jar and wiped the remnants of the ointment from his fingers on the back of his neck.

Next up, a sling. Tora grabbed his switchblade from his own bag in the back seat. He cut Claude’s gym shirt open along the sides to make one long piece of fabric, then put the knife in his pocket and turned to Poppy.

He stepped behind her and reached around, bringing the fabric under her injured forearm. He folded her arm across her stomach, parallel to the ground. He tried to ignore her soft hiss of pain at the movement. With the middle of the fabric supporting her forearm, Tora brought both ends around either side of her neck. He knotted them together.

“Feel okay?” He asked, pulling her hair out over the knot. He lay a hand briefly against her good shoulder before stepping away. She turned to him and smiled weakly.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He tried, one-handed, to pick apart the knot on the shirt bandaging his arm. Poppy reached up immediately to help him. With one hand each, they fumbled at the knot.

“Hold that part,” she said, and tapped a ridge of the fabric. He complied and her fingers brushed against his as she tugged the knot open. Poppy drew the shirt away from him, but the blood had dried. It cemented a patch of the fabric against the wound.

She peeled it off, tugging at the wound and wincing even though Tora made no expression of pain. Blood welled slowly back up to the opening and dribbled down his arm.

“Um…” Poppy looked at the first aid kid, her hand shaking.

Tora picked up one of the alcohol wipes and ripped it open. He started to pull out the wipe, but Poppy took it from him.

“I got it,” Tora said.

“I want to help,” she insisted. “Just tell me what to do.”

“Clean it up with the wipe. Then the antibiotic ointment.”

“What happened?” She said softly as she dabbed at the opening with the wipe. The alcohol burned like hell, but he had long practice in acting like he wasn’t in pain.

“Guess my boss got suspicious. Drugged me when I came in. They got my phone and figured it out. So I escaped, came back.”

He shrugged and turned over his shoulder to grab the water bottle again. There was only a quarter of the bottle left. He squirted water into his mouth then offered it to Poppy.

“When I’m done,” she said quietly, squeezing the ointment over the wound. Tora put down the bottle and picked up two of the gauze pads. Poppy held them in place over the wound while he tried to rip off a piece of the first-aid tape. He eventually managed and handed her one piece, then a second and third.

“What happened? To you,” he said softly, staring off down the road instead of looking at her.

“I saw a face through the blinds. Next thing I knew they had the door open. Then you showed up,” Poppy said, smoothing the tape across the gauze.

“Did he touch you.” His voice was flat: anger instead of a question.

“Well, you saw him.”

“I don’t mean like that.” Tora turned and looked down at her, his eyes on fire.

Poppy shook her head no. 

“I… I’m sorry ya saw that. At the motel.” he said.

“You saved me, Tora. If you didn’t… if you hadn’t…” Her voice trembled.

“...Still.”

“Yeah.”

“So where are we?” he asked again.

“I have no idea. Somewhere north. I just needed a break. And we’re around a quarter tank. Can you use GPS?”

“Nah. Don’t have my phone.”

“Oh, that's right.”

While they’d doctored their wounds, the sun had finally slipped below the horizon. Now only the dusky last light remained, softening their features and swallowing the small details of the world around them. The cicadas continued to chorus.

He tried to take stock of the situation, thinking slowly so his foggy brain wouldn’t miss anything.

They needed gas at some point. They needed somewhere safe to stay. The car was stolen, and the license plate number had no doubt been reported by now. They had no idea where they were or how far the nearest town was. They were both injured. He looked down at himself and then at her.

Tora was covered in blood, and some had smudged onto Poppy from switching into the driver’s seat. Not to mention the bandage on his arm and the makeshift sling on hers.

He needed a cigarette, badly. He reached for one and then remembered they’d been pulled out of his pocket when Vincent’s men searched him. His other packs had been in his car, not in the motel room. _Fuck._ He sighed.

There was a hoodie in his bag, so he could cover the bandage and his own dirty clothes. That was good. He didn’t want Poppy going out alone in public, but Tora could manage shopping or getting gas or renting a room, like he had before.

“Hey. Is there blood on my face?” He asked.

“Yup,” Poppy said.

“Do you mind?” He handed her another alcohol wipe. Only three left. But he could buy more. He sat on the trunk lip to bring his face lower for her.

She took the wipe. The sharp scent of alcohol was unpleasant to Tora, but Poppy’s hands were gentle on his face. She drew close to him, her body brushing up against him. His heart thumped erratically as her face drew closer to his to inspect for missed spots of blood in the shadows. He fumbled for the flashlight and held it up for her, closing his eyes against the beam as she inspected him.

_Everybody who read that damned notebook is supposed to be dead._

Vincent's words floated up through the fog of his brain and turned over in his mind. Was it possible that Vincent was after more than vengeance? Not just a statement against the journalists who’d removed the clan’s political allies.

_Everybody who read…who read._

Had there been more in the notebook than the story that Giant Goldfish published? Some other explosive the crime lord need to contain.

On the one hand: everything Vincent had done, he would have done for simple vengeance, and to send a message.

On the other hand: his choice of words… did Poppy have more information? Something else Vincent would kill to keep contained?

_Everybody who read that damned notebook._

“I think I got it all,” Poppy said. He clicked off the light as her hand brushed at one last spot on his cheek.

Tora’s free hand rose to grab her wrist. He held her hand against his face for a moment, and Poppy’s gaze dragged to his. They stared into the depths of each other’s eyes for a long, speechless moment, until he drew in a ragged breath.

“Poppylan…,” he whispered.

In the darkness, her eyes were dark, liquid pools. He found himself falling into them. Or maybe not falling. Diving.

He could ask her another time. They didn’t need to talk about this yet, talk about it here. Either way Vincent was coming for both of them. Either way they needed to run, needed to hide.

“You know if we left a minute later, we’d have been screwed,” he said instead, and let go of her hand.

“Yeah.” Her voice trembled.

“Can’t believe you saved ya fuckin’ hamster.”

“Of course. He’s my responsibility.”

“Yeah, but it’s a fuckin’ _hamster_.” Tora closed the trunk and went to the backseat of the car for his hoodie. He pulled it on, covering any evidence of violence apart from the dark, near-indistinguishable blood stains on his black pants.

“I adopted him,” she said fiercely. “If you agree to care for something, you do it. No matter what.”

_Naive_ was his first thought. Maybe the delay had only added a few seconds, but still. Nobody in the Balthuman clan would have deemed a rodent ‘essential’ in the scant moments of packing before a getaway. But here was Poppy, who’d risked both their lives because of a promise she’d made to a small furry rodent who was—in Tora’s opinion—kind of a dick anyways.

But was that idiotic, or just big-hearted?

One thing was certain. Poppy had more compassion for an ‘adopted’ rodent than Vincent had for an adopted kid. _If you agree to care for something, you do it. No matter what_. Her words hit him low, churning his stomach unpleasantly. Rather than respond, he swept his eyes over the shadowed landscape.

“We gotta ditch this car soon as we can.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

He turned back to her and grinned.

“I know that, Poppy. How long ago ya turn off a big road?”

“I don’t know. Forty minutes?” 

“Alright. Here’s hoping we hit something soon. I’ll drive.”

“I can drive. You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine. You only have one working arm,” Tora said, but Poppy shook her head and got back into the driver’s seat.

If they found a gas station, they could take turns napping and drive through the night. Find a town big enough to sell the car for scraps or just ditch it altogether. Steal money for another car or disguise themselves well enough for a train ride.

He had no idea where they were going, where they could hide, what they could do. Money was limited, income nonexistent. As a thief Tora wasn’t half bad, but every risk he took was a risk to Poppy as well.

Somehow, they had to find a way to survive. 

There was nobody to turn to for help. Or was there?

“Poppy. You grabbed ya phone, right?”

“I think so. Should be in my bag.”

He reached around and pulled the bag onto his lap as she took off down the small country road. The pool of headlights threw dramatic relief on their immediate surroundings, making a spectacle out of trees, fences, a bush.

One lifeline, and one lifeline only. He’d forced himself to memorize Gyu’s phone number three broken phones ago, after too many problems trying to get hold of his tech guy.

If he could get to Gyu, he could get to Quincey.

Hoping to hell that Vincent hadn’t nabbed Gyu to punish Tora, the tiger dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear. It began to ring.


	24. Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a kinda long one, sorry! Let me know what you think :)

Nobody picked up. Tora cussed under his breath. He tried once more, and it went to voicemail again.

“Who are you calling?” Poppy asked, glancing out of the corner of her eye.

“Friend. Might be at work.” He snapped the phone shut and stared out the window. He’d try again in a few hours.

Fifteen minutes later the one-lane road intersected with a two-lane; twenty after that they turned into a gas station at the edge of a small, quaint town.

“Stay in the car. Be ready to go fast,” Tora warned, popping open the passenger door and rising out of the car.

He took a moment to browse the small shop. They sold old-school paper road maps; Tora had no clue why the fuck they still bothered, but since he had no smart phone, he grabbed one gratefully. Two protein bars, two bottles of water, a pack of chocolate mini-doughnuts, and four rice-balls shaped like triangles (not tigers), stuffed with meat and wrapped in seaweed. He dumped them onto the counter. A bored-looking middle-aged woman with freckles started to ring the items up wordlessly. 

There was a wall of cigarettes behind the counter.

Money was tight. He shouldn’t. But he had to.

He pointed out the pack he wanted and grabbed a lighter from the display on the counter. The woman got two packs for him. He pulled out Claude’s wallet.

“Change on pump seven,” he said. She nodded, tossed his purchases haphazardly in a plastic bag, and handed him a receipt.

They drove for a while, then stopped to eat in a parking lot. Drove again.

“I’ll take over,” Tora said, seeing exhaustion carved into Poppy’s face.

“Can’t we stop somewhere?” she asked.

His instincts said _run and keep running_ , but what was the point, really? They were far from Narin City. They couldn’t drive forever. The car itself was a liability.

“…yeah. Okay.”

Tora inspected the road map with a flashlight. He had no clue how the fuck to read a map like that. It was long obsolete in the age of smart phones, and besides, he'd grown up knowing the city like the back of his hand. 

Though the dense network of tiny lines and printed names was overwhelming to dive into, once he located a few names from signs they’d passed, it fell into place. He picked out a small city about an hour away and got them pointed towards it.

\---

He’d never stayed in so many motels in his life. But it was more private than sleeping in the car, and felt less on-display than walking through the halls of a hotel. They found one on the outskirts of the city. Tora arranged for the room.

Coming out of the office, he noticed a woman with ragged hair squinting at him. He turned away and went to the car. He hated being fucking stared at.

Tora handed Poppy the room key and grabbed the bags and Sake. The weird woman was gone; good. They went to their room, drew the blinds shut, and locked the door. 

He wanted to call Gyu right away. Better to wait a little longer; it was just after ten and Gyu worked late. Still, Tora felt anxious, not knowing for sure whether the lack of answer was from restaurant hours, or another casualty of Vincent’s anger.

He watched Poppy struggle for a moment to get out of her dirty clothes one-armed.

“Let me help,” Tora said softly. Poppy blushed but nodded.

He untied the sling slowly, then carefully drew her blood-stained shirt over her head and around the sprained shoulder. He left the bra. Though he wished he could remove it, there was no need to do so. In the bathroom, he wetted a hand towel and wiped the rosy blood stain off her pale skin.

“Thanks,” she said. He wordlessly fetched the tiger balm and gathered her hair onto the other side of her neck, finding as he did so that it was tangled. He rubbed the ointment slowly across her shoulder.

“Want me to brush your hair?” he asked.

“I don’t need both hands to do that,” she said. He nodded and helped her get a clean shirt on. Poppy unfastened her bra and shrugged out of it, pulling it off and out under her shirt. Tora re-tied the sling.

He cleaned the blood off himself while Poppy left the bathroom, then re-emerged shirtless to ask her if she could help change his bandage. Poppy was mid-way through brushing her hair but nodded and set the brush down.

“When you’re done,” he said hurriedly, but she shook her head and got the first-aid kit out of the bag one-handedly. She cleaned and re-bandaged the laceration in a companionable silence.

He called Gyu again once she finished. It rang through to voicemail. Maybe because it wasn’t a number Gyu had saved.

_Ronzo. Pick up_ , Tora texted. Nobody else called Gyu that. It was like a code; safer than texting his own name, if Gyu wasn’t alone.

He waited a minute and then called again. The phone rang three times, then Gyu answered.

“…Tora?” Gyu said.

“Gyu. Need a favor.”

“Holy shit. You know the big boss has everyone looking for you?”

“Yeah. Don’t fuckin’ say I called.” 

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I need Quincey’s number.”

“Yeah. Okay. Give me a moment. Where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right. Um, okay. Ready?”

Gyu read the number.

“Got it. Bye.”

“Big bro, wait.”

“What?”

“Just… be careful, okay?”

Tora hung up and called Quincey. No answer. Called again. No answer. Angrily texted, _pick up, ya fucking princess_. Called again.

“Honey?” Quincey’s voice quivered.

“Hey. I need ya help.”

“Oh my god, honey. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Ya know I’m not telling you that.” 

“I was scared you were _dead._ ”

“The less ya know the better, Quince. For all of us.”

“…Dad’s really mad, huh?”

“Quince.”

“Right. Okay.” Quincey drew a deep, shaky breath over the phone. “How can I help?”

Tora rubbed his forehead.

“I was hopin’ you could tell me,” he muttered. He glanced at Poppy. She was back to brushing her hair, scrunching up her face as she tugged at a knot. Tora walked to the bathroom and closed the door, preferring her not to hear. “Look. We don’t have much money. We only got a stolen car. Nowhere safe to go. But I know you can’t do much, ‘cuz knowing ya old man, he’s keeping an eye on you too…”

“Yeah. And he’s even got the cops looking for you,” Quincey muttered. “After, um. Those other clan guys.”

“Yeah. I figured.” Vincent wasn’t one for working with the police, unless the police were crooked, but since the cops had doubtlessly found Claude and Scharch in the motel room there was no avoiding it.

“Okay. This number. Can I reach you at it again?”

“Unless something goes south.”

“Okay. I’m going to sleep on this and figure something out. Leave it to me, okay? Just be safe, honey. Please.”

Tora hung up and emerged from the bathroom.

By then it was Poppy’s turn to need help again. He watched as she struggled for a minute to get the button of her jeans undone with just one hand, and her face turned beet-red when she at last asked Tora to help.

“Sure, sweetheart. I’m good at getting women outta their pants,” he said to make light of it.

"You know you _deserve_ to be slapped," she told him. She scowled as he tenderly slipped the button open and slowly unzipped the crotch.

"What, not even a thank you?" Tora asked.

“I’ve got it from here, _thanks_ ,” Poppy muttered. He held his hands up in surrender as she kicked and pushed and shuffled her way out of her jeans.

\---

Tora woke up with his cock hard and his arm across Poppy’s stomach. She lay on her back, injured arm folded just above his own. Half-asleep, without really thinking about it, he tightened his hold on her and pushed himself against the warm, soft body next to him.

He felt Poppy tense up and pull back. Tora’s eyes parted. She blushed, her sleepy eyes blinking wide at him.

Goddamn morning wood. The full length of his cock, clothed only in boxers, was pressed up along the side of her hip.

“Fuck, sorry,” he muttered, and rolled away from her.

“What for?” Poppy said, clearing her throat.

He almost didn’t answer, sure it was a rhetorical question with an obvious answer, but then he peeked at her. She looked at him with actual curiosity, her face still pink.

“What’s got _you_ blushing?” Tora asked.

“Nothing. Just a dream,” Poppy muttered, blinking and blushing redder.

His eyes widened. Tora rolled back to her and put his hand on her stomach again, over her shirt.

“Oh? Whatcha dream about, Bobby?” he whispered in a sultry voice, his morning arousal making him daring, against his better judgment.

“Nothing! Just… you…”

“…me? What were we doing?”

“Um. Nothing…” Poppy turned her face away from him and folded her legs up, seemingly trying to shrink and disappear from embarrassment.

Tora placed his mouth just above her ear and whispered, “sex dream, Bobby?”

“Oh my god,” Poppy groaned.

“Don’t be embarrassed. Did ya like it?” He smirked down at her, flashing his dimples.

“ _Shut up,_ you perv,” Poppy said.

“Who you calling a perv? I’m not the one with the porny dreams,” Tora said, propping himself up on an elbow and grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah, well…” Poppy muttered. “ _I’m_ not the one with, you know...” she gestured down at him with her good arm.

“Gonna have to be more specific than _that_ , Bobby. The one with what?”

“I mean, your… um…” her voice dropped to a whisper. “Body parts.”

“What? My toes?”

“No!”

“Kneecaps?”

“… _dick_ ,” she whispered, very quietly, then clapped a hand over her mouth and seemed to grow even redder.

“Pfft.” Tora struggled not to laugh outright at her, his shoulders shaking with contained humor. “You’re real cute, ya know.”

She at last pulled the hand away from her face and gave him a look. Serious, but not angry. Their faces were inches apart. His arm still rested against her. Desire stirred in him. The way she was looking at him….

“You’re a really good guy, Tora.” Where the hell had that come from?

“Sure. You keep tellin’ yaself that, sweetheart.” Bitter humor. Hadn’t she seen what he was capable of now? How was she still telling herself that? Did she really believe it?

“I wouldn’t regret it.”

_Regret it? ..._ She wasn’t really talking about sex right now, was she?

“Poppy…”

“I’m not trying to pressure you, Tora. But you said you thought if we… um, slept together, I’d regret it. Being with someone 'like you.' But you're a good person. I wouldn't regret it.”

“You’ve got too much going on to know that,” he muttered.

“That’s a little condescending.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I… I like ya too much to just be some mistake.” Tora felt a blush rise to his own cheeks.

“...I like you, too.”

His heart thumped so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

Tora leaned down pressed his lips softly against hers. She kissed back firmly, opening her lips. Tora’s own mouth parted in response. His hand tightened around her waist. The kiss deepened; his loins stirred. Desire built. He wanted her. Needed her. Had to have her.

If he kept kissing her he was going to lose control. If she wasn't going to stop him, he had to stop himself.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said abruptly. _Before we take this too far._

_\---_

He stood sideways in the shower to keep his wound away from the water, the bandaged arm mostly dry apart from the inevitable splatters and droplets.

His other hand wrapped around his throbbing cock and began to desperately rub at himself.

Otherwise he was going to go back out there and make a mistake. It was all still so fresh. She couldn’t possibly mean what she was saying. But even if… even if she _did_ mean it… even if she _did_ want to be with him… _liked him..._ this was not the time or the place.

But _fuck_ did he want her. He made tunnel with his fist and jerked his hand up and down his length, panting and imagining spreading Poppy’s legs, burying himself in her, hearing her scream his name, her kissing him, her _wanting_ him…

His hips joined the movement of his hand, shoving against his palm and through his coiled fingers… did she wake up wet from her dream, he wondered? Holy fuck, what if she was out there on the bed touching herself right now, thinking the same way about him… he groaned. _Fuck_ , this was too much. He had to find a way to stop being so attracted to her.

“ _TORA!”_ the shriek was loud enough that he heard it, even muffled over the pounding of the shower and the pounding of his own blood.

That was pure panic. Not arousal. Holy shit. He didn’t turn off the shower or grab his boxers, he just leapt out of the water and burst into the room, dripping wet and naked as the day he was born.

Poppy was alone peeping out through the window. Nobody was holding a gun to her head or pinning her down.

“Tora, cops! Cops are…” she turned over her shoulder, having heard his approach, and gulped. “Oh. Uh.. cops are…”

“Cops are _what_?” he said, yanking yesterday’s dirty jeans up over his bare ass, shoving his erection uncomfortably to the side.

“They’re parking…” Poppy muttered, looking back out the window as he pulled on his hoodie without a shirt. He shoved his bare feet into his sneakers, grabbed the Glock, and came to replace her at the window.

“Pack. Quick. Get ready to run.” He slid the gun into his waistband and considered the scene outside. Just one car, two cops. They got out of the car and circled the Lexus, peering into it. A brief conversation. Obviously here for them, or they wouldn’t be paying so much attention to the Lexus and ignoring all the other cars.

But how the _fuck_ had they found them so fast? Had someone called them? Who the hell would have called them? Who the hell would have _known_ to call them?

The cops started to walk towards the main office.

“Poppy. Get ready. We’re gonna break right. Don’t run unless I say so, just walk fast.”

She handed him both of their bags and he slung them over his shoulder. Stupid to bring them at all, maybe, but they had literally nothing else to survive off of. If they made it through this, Tora thought, they would go through the bags and weed out everything they didn’t need so it was easier to move fast.

“Which one has the phone?” Tora asked, unlocking the door and settling his hand on the knob. He needed to know which bag to ditch if he had to ditch one.

“Mine,” Poppy said.

The cops vanished into the office.

“Alright. _Now._ ” He ripped the door open and turned to usher Poppy through.

She was carrying the _fucking hamster cage_ , awkwardly supported by her good arm.

_How did I not see this coming. Jesus, Poppy. Again_?

But she was following his instructions, walking quickly along the right of the building.

_I’m getting rid of that hamster as soon as we’re outta here,_ Tora promised himself.

He followed her, muttering to walk faster as they headed around the side of the motel and out of view of the office door. They climbed a very short, steep hill to the main road, and then were walking along a sidewalk as cars zipped past.

They needed somewhere to hide, fast. As soon as the cops realized the room was empty they’d be on the hunt. The road was dangerous, but then, so was hiding anywhere near the motel; they might do a sweep around the perimeter.

\---

Gamblers know that sometimes luck is good, and sometimes luck is bad. On occasion, the movement of the world lines up in such a way to be almost unbelievable, like the hand of fate has reached down to rearrange your circumstances. It may happen when you run into an old friend halfway across the world, or when the man in front of you at the bakery changes his order last minute, allowing you to buy the very last one of the pastry you had been thinking of all morning.

For Tora and Poppy, it happened when a bus pulled up to a bus stop not ten feet in front of them. Unbeknownst to them, had they stayed on the street a moment longer, they would have been caught.

“Go!” Tora yelled, and they both ran for it. He pulled up his sweatshirt hood as one passenger disembarked, and then they climbed the steps. Tora hunted through his bag for Claude’s wallet while the driver looked on impatiently, and Poppy kept her head down while a few people stared at the small woman holding the hamster cage on the mid-morning bus and the huge, muscular man in wet clothes next to her.

They sat in the back, because the back was empty, and Tora whispered:

“Don’t look so nervous, sweetheart. It’ll make people stare.”

“Were you going to fight them naked?” Poppy whispered back and he blushed and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not the one who screamed bloody fuckin’ murder. Thought someone was killing ya.”

“Well, it’s good I looked outside, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. It is.” He didn’t want to think about how close that was. Would he have had to kill those cops if they’d come to the room? Fuck, that would have brought the whole country down on them.

And thank god they hadn’t gotten carried away and been in the middle of fucking. What a bad first time _that_ would have been; talk about regret. He pawed through the bags quickly until he found his black hat and the sunglasses, and offered both to Poppy. Then he put his arm around her and she leaned her head against him.

Time to deal with Sake. She wasn't going to like it, but this had gotten out of hand.

“So… Pops. We can’t keep doing this,” he muttered softly to her.

“What? Running?”

“No. Ya hamster. He’s gotta go.”

“But he’s all I have.” She pulled the cage against her chest.

“Oof. Really? A hamster’s _all_ ya have?” Tora said dryly.

“I didn’t mean—look, I just…”

“Bobby, I get it. But it’s not even fair to the little guy. Getting shaken around like this.”

They both peered into the cage. Sake was pressed down flat in a corner of the cage, his little house on its side from the jostling escape.

“Yeah... Okay,” Poppy said. He knew she started to cry because her lower lip trembled, and she started swiping at her eyes under the dark sunglasses.

“Hey,” Tora murmured. He pulled her head tight against his shoulder, letting her bury her face there, trying to sooth her by running his thumb against the back of her head. “It’ll be okay.”

“How are you so calm?” Poppy asked. “Through all of this. F…feeling like you’re being chased. Like you have to look over your shoulder all the time. Like…”

“I’m used to it,” Tora said.

The bus started and stopped along the road. Ten or fifteen minutes later, it started to wind away from highway and retail areas and roll through suburbs instead. He gave it a few more minutes, then pulled the stop-cord. Three streets later, the bus rolled to a halt and the doors fanned open. Tora stood up and Poppy followed him off the bus.

Poppy chose a house with a Frisbee and a tricycle on the lawn, explaining that maybe a home with kids would be more likely to want a hamster. They left Sake’s cage on the front porch, along with a scribbled note on a torn-out piece of sketchbook paper.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tora said, and took her hand.

They walked until they found a bus stop with a bench and sat to wait, hoping nobody would notice them. At the first bus that pulled up, Tora went to the door.

“This go to the train station?” he asked. The city, though minuscule compared to Narin city, was too big not to have a train station.

“Yeh, s’other side of tha route, though. Forty minutes,” the driver said.

“S’fine,” Tora said. He put a foot on the first step and motioned for Poppy, who ran up after him. They paid again from Claude’s wallet and settled into the back of the bus. Tora pulled his hood as low over his face as he could and slouched in the seat. Poppy was deflated, nerves and tension collapsing under the weight of another loss. He pulled her against him, taking just as much comfort from the embrace as he gave.

At the train station they pushed through a milling crowd of travelers and found a quiet corner to sit in. Tora dug through the bags to add more cash to Claude’s wallet.

“You wait here,” he said to Poppy. She nodded, staring up at a wall-mounted TV playing news stories on mute. He went to the counter and bought two tickets to a town on the other side of the country; they needed to get as far away from the Lexus as they could.

Back to Poppy. Even with the sunglasses on, he could read her well enough to tell she was horrified, staring at something on the screen he couldn’t see. He walked briskly to her.

She pointed at the TV. He folded his arms and looked over his shoulder at it. Some blonde lady news caster was talking. He didn’t need audio to make out the problem.

The word _wanted_ was on the screen, along with _primary suspect in the murders of the four journalists who…_

...And in the upper right corner, his own mugshot glaring back at him.


	25. Bluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me just furiously writing more fanfic as I wait for the next episode...
> 
> Snowgriff put some awesome theories together about the woman in the photograph of Goliath in ep. 10/11, I got inspired and changed my plans for the Goliath bits of this story. So: many thanks!!! :D

It was hard to play poker from the grave.

Well, alleged grave. Goliath’s best bluff had been his death.

He sat now on a plush white leather couch, feet up on the coffee table, smoking a spliff and staring in consternation at the widescreen television. Goliath ran his tattooed hand through his hair and leaned back, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to get his head right. He took another slow drag, waited, and exhaled a steady stream of smoke.

Tora was supposed to be the one to find the notebook. Tora would have _known_ what to do with the information inside. And Goliath was just going to sit back, watch Balthuman tear itself apart, let his boss shower him with praise and gifts, and then rise from the dead like the fucking messiah of Ares Street.

He had _promised_ his boss that Tora was the best target for her plan.

Sure, Goliath had worried a little when the story of the ten corrupt politicians broke from a minor publisher, but there were a thousand explanations. Tora could be trying to keep his hands clean, for instance. Playing a long game. Leaking a little bit at a time and saving the best for last. Or maybe the small publisher had a big investor and could pay.

But if Tora had taken out the journalists (and done a sloppy fucking job of it, to boot, given that his picture was now on the news), somebody _else_ must have found that notebook.

Tora hadn’t shown up, hadn’t found the shoe, hadn’t found the cache of secrets.

…Did it hurt a little that Tora hadn’t come to save Goliath from his certain death?

Yeah.

But then again, since Goliath had been fucking with him all along… well, he couldn’t exactly blame the guy.

He peeled his head back up off the couch and scowled at the mugshot that lingered on the TV for another moment before the news cut to a different story.

At least Balthuman was on its knees, for the moment.

Better to call his boss than let her find out on her own. She appreciated a good gamble, even if it didn’t always work. But she’d made it clear many times before that she wasn’t afraid to cut Goliath loose if he proved untrustworthy.

He took one last puff before leaning forward with a groan and crushing the spliff into the ashtray on the coffee table. He turned off the television and got out his phone, bracing himself. With a sigh, Goliath called his most recent contact: one of the few people who knew he was alive. The woman who had plotted his ‘death’ and was going to stage his resurrection.

“Make it quick,” her voice said on the other end.

“I don’t think the notebook worked. My boy is on the run from the cops. Probably never had it.”

There was a long silence.

“Goddamn it, Goliath,” she muttered. “I told you he didn’t give a shit about you anymore.”

“Yeah, well. You win some, you lose some.”

“Tell that to the men I have in the fucking hospital, you weasel.”

“It’s not like the information’s bad,” he muttered. “We can still do something with it.”

“Yeah, well, _who the hell_ has the notebook now?”

“…Vincent, probably,” Goliath muttered.

“Probably? _Probably_? You think this is a joke?”

“Odds are good,” he said. “C’mon. You know I’m a gambling man.”

“You better _fucking gamble_ this doesn’t come down on us, then. I hope you’re feeling real lucky.”

**\---**

Tora froze for a second, staring at his face on the screen, before he turned back to Poppy. Keeping his movements slow and calm, he looked around the station.

Nobody was looking at him, not yet. Nobody was looking at the screen. But he’d bet it wasn’t the first time that story played. That must have been why the cops had shown up at the motel.

His face was out there. On the news. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized again. Maybe in that very station. Any second, it could happen.

And when it did, Poppy would be in danger. He’d thought he could stay with her, protect her, be her bodyguard.

Right now he was more like magnet, attracting trouble.

He crouched down and opened the bags.

“What are you doing?” Poppy asked. He made sure the phone was in her bag and transferred the rest of the money in as well. He slid his ring and bracelet off and dropped them in. Tora zipped both bags shut and slung his over his shoulder, then grabbed her hand, still crouched in front of her.

Tora put one of the tickets into her palm and closed her fingers around it, keeping both his hands wrapped around hers.

“…Tora?” Poppy whispered, staring at his expression.

“Poppy. You take that train. Find somewhere to hide and keep the phone with you. Quincey’s gonna find a way to help you. You can trust him.”

Tora’s previous experiences with heartbreak had been when friends backstabbed him, or died.

It had never been at letting someone go. He’d never been heartbroken just distancing himself from another person. But then, he’d never let someone in as far as he had Poppy. Not romantically, anyways. Just a few days since she’d come back from that work retreat, but in that parting moment, he realized that she had his heart. All of it. He was thoroughly infatuated.

How was that possible?

He had to go to keep her safe.

He released her hands and stood quickly. Tora turned and walked away with his head down. How could a purely emotional pain hurt so badly, physically?

“Wait!” Poppy called.

He hadn’t made it ten steps before her hand wrapped around his wrist.

He couldn’t push her away. Couldn’t afford to make a scene, to draw attention to himself.

Swiftly, Tora’s gaze scanned the station; nobody was looking. He’d been moving towards the doors to the outside. A row of granite columns, as wide around as oak trees, marched between the entry and the main hall of the station. He pulled her to the backside of the farthest one, well out of the way of the traffic in and out of the station. Tora pressed her against the column.

He kissed her then, roughly. He pushed his body against hers and dug his hands into her hair, his mouth hungrily moving against hers, needing to taste her. Needing to feel her. One last time. He took an uneven breath and pressed his forehead against hers. Then he pulled his face away an inch and pushed the sunglasses up onto her forehead so he could gaze into her eyes

“I’m a danger to you,” Tora whispered. “Poppy, please get on that train. You have to.” He cupped her face with one hand.

“I’m not going without you. You can’t make me.”

She grabbed the neck of his hoodie with her good hand. His heart caught in his throat.

“You gotta let me go,” Tora rasped.

“No _. I won’t.”_

“This isn’t going to end well,” he said.

“I don’t care. I’m not letting you vanish into thin air.”

“Shit, Poppy. I can’t let you get hurt ‘cuz of me.”

“All you’ve done is keep me safe. If I get hurt now, it’s not your fault.”

“Poppy…” his voice was strained. Even as he begged her to let him go, he kept one hand tangled in her hair and one pressed against her cheek.

It had taken everything in him to walk away from her, just a minute ago. He’d done it to keep her safe.

He already didn’t know if he could do it again.

“Come on. We have to get out of here, don’t we?” Poppy said. She let go of his hoodie to take the sunglasses off her face and handed them to him. “I think you need these more than me, right now.”

“Poppy…”

“Just do it. For me.”

“S’a little small...” Tora said with a half-hearted smile as the sides of the frames bent out to fit around his head.

“Yeah, well, you have a big head.”

“Hey. That’s only ‘cuz I have a big body.”

She linked her fingers through his as Tora leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Then he followed her out of the station, into the bright light of day.


	26. Withdrawal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think :)

Tora pulled Poppy around the exterior of the train station, towards the parking lot and attached bus loop where they had disembarked not fifteen minutes past.

Feeling hunted was not new to him. Nonetheless, as cars whizzed past the busy street paranoia clawed at his nerves. Every driver was someone who could recognize his face, even with the hood and sunglasses. Every second out-of-doors was a risk.

Poppy followed a half-step behind, her fingers laced through his, her short legs working hard to keep up with his long stride.

“Do you have a plan? Where are we going?” She asked.

“Gonna drive. No more public transit.”

“…drive what?”

“A car, Pops,” he said, face blank.

“Yeah, but… whose…”

They entered the parking lot and skirted its edge. A bus pulled up to one of the benches. People got on and off; the bus pulled away. The bench was left empty. Tora tugged her there and sat them both down.

He fished through his pack and pulled out one of the last cigarettes. Fuck, he was smoking _way_ too fast for someone without money. Tora lit the cigarette and watched the slow flow of people moving in and out of the station in fits and starts. A crowd, then nobody, then a small crowd again.

He glanced sideways at Poppy and frowned.

It would be better to work alone, to not involve her. But alone, his chances of success were much lower. Tora had plenty of criminal skills, but he’d never made a good pick pocket, even as a kid. Not like Goliath had.

He wasn’t unassuming. He wasn’t small. When he brushed against someone, they noticed. And with his hood up and sunglasses on, he probably looked shady as shit.

“How do you feel. About helping,” he asked quietly.

“To steal a _car_?” she squeaked.

“Unless you got a better idea.”

“I’ve never stolen anything,” Poppy said, nervously clutching at her hands.

“I figured, nerd,” he said with a smirk.

“…It’s wrong.” 

“Don’t see what choice we have.”

Poppy leaned back against the bench and hugged her bag.

“What do you expect me to do?” she asked at last.

“Be a distraction.”

\---

“Promise you aren’t going to ditch me,” Poppy muttered, adjusting the bag on her good shoulder again, zipper open.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Now stop worrying. Ya just some cute as hell chick running to make her train, and that’s it. ‘kay?”

“Okay,” Poppy whispered. "But I don't like this."

They had looped around and were now half a block away from the train station lot, and moving back towards it. Poppy started to speed walk, Tora dragging his feet and falling further behind her.

When they hit the parking lot he fanned out to the right, diagonally behind her at a great enough distance that nobody would know they were together.

Twenty feet from the entrance she joined a small crowd of other travelers funneling into the station doors.

Poppy stumbled, then fell flat. Tora winced watching her sprawl forward onto the concrete, catching herself on her good arm as her bag flew out of her grip. A book, her hairbrush, and the corner of a bra slid out of the unzipped opening.

Even knowing she’d planned to fall, it looked painful. It looked like a real accident.

He picked up his pace and joined the crowd of people entering the station. A young woman stopped to help Poppy up while an older man bent to pick up the book for her.

Tora bumped into the older man as he slipped past him, and walked away with a pair of keys in his hoodie pocket. Tora didn’t slow down, or pause, or look at Poppy. He just kept walking.

Tora stopped at a station map and inspected it. Poppy and the older man both walked past. He waited another moment, so nobody would remember he had just walked _in_ to the station, before turning around and going back out to the lot. 

He clicked the keys a few times as he strolled casually around the lot, then got into the beat-up green sedan and exited onto the street.

He picked Poppy up on the other side of the station, just outside the doors with the columns where he’d tried to part ways. She got into the car silently, tears gathered in the corner of her eyes, her mouth a firm line.

She didn’t meet his gaze even when he stared questioningly at her. She looked straight ahead and clutched her bag on her lap.

“You mad at me?” He asked softly as he got back on the road and sped away.

She shook her head _no_.

“Then…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Poppy sniffled. “That was _bad_ , Tora. What we just did was _really_ _bad_.”

In truth, he understood where she was coming from. He knew they couldn’t have hang ups when it came to survival, and he’d done so many things worse than stealing a car in his life. But it always felt worse hurting people who didn’t deserve it. And he hated that Poppy had to bear that weight.

“…Don’t see what else we could have done,” Tora muttered.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she said softly, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“You have a big heart, Poppy,” Tora sighed.

“Just stop,” she said. “Don’t try to make me feel better. This isn’t something to feel better about.”

“Look. If you wanna get on that train. You don’t have to be a part of this.”

Poppy said nothing. She reached forward and turned on the car radio, then slumped down in the passenger seat and stared out the window.

With luck, the guy wouldn’t notice his keys were missing until he left and returned. With luck, it was more than a simple day trip. Then again, maybe he’d already noticed the keys and run back out to the lot.

No use worrying about what Tora could neither know nor control. Get away from the city, ditch the car, keep moving.

\---

Tora sat alone in the car, staring out the window and feeling helpless.

Their roles had reversed so dramatically. Now that it was his face on the news, he was the one left waiting while Poppy entered a store alone. He found his mind racing, wondering what was happening in there, if anybody would recognize her, if anybody would give her a hard time.

He unbuckled his seat-belt just in case he needed to jump out and save her.

Anxious, Tora reached for his cigarettes. He opened the pack and grabbed the last one, then scowled and dropped it back into the box.

As badly as he wanted it, he had to save it. He’d want it worse in a few hours. He’d asked Poppy to buy more and she’d refused: money was too tight for luxuries.

“Not a fucking luxury,” he muttered again to himself.

Ten minute later she was back in the car, carrying two bags. She handed him an apple out of one, placing that bag on the armrest between the car seats. She hurriedly unzipped her bag and started to sneak the other shopping bag in there.

“Hey. The fuck is that?” Tora asked.

“Nothing.”

“You said no cigarettes. Don’t tell me _you_ got something.”

“It’s private,” Poppy said, blushing.

“Fuck no you don’t.”

He grabbed the bag from her, shaking off her hands and then deflecting a blow to his face.

Tora glanced inside and then tossed the bag of menstrual products back at her.

“ _Happy?”_ Poppy said, her face bright red.

“Sorry,” Tora muttered, also blushing. “But ya didn’t have to go all secret agent on me about it.”

“I deserve _some_ privacy,” Poppy said.

“Yeah. You do. And turns out, I’m an asshole.” He put the car in drive.

\---

That night, they slept in the car in a mall parking lot.

Waking up, Tora looked at Poppy’s grey, tightly drawn face the next morning and felt a stab of worry.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re sick.” 

“It’s just cramps.”

“Oh. They bad?”

“Yes, Tora. ‘They bad.’”

“...Can I help?”

She shook her head no. He drove to a gas station, where they both used the grimy exterior restrooms, and then drove an hour to a scenic park: partly to allow the car’s USB charger to refuel the cell phone, and partly so the car wouldn’t be seen lingering in any one place for too long.

Poppy kept looking ill and uncomfortable. Tora felt very out of his element. His neck also hurt like a bitch.

At mid-day, a stroke of overdue good news. The phone rang, and Tora answered hastily.

“What about a hideout?” Quincey asked without saying hello.

“Yeah. We fucking need one.”

“Okay. I think I can set something up. I’ll let you know in a day or so if it works. Just keep. Um. North west-ish.”

Poppy still looked like she was going to pass out or throw up, despite having taken aspirin from the first aid kit.

“It is supposed to be that bad?” Tora asked.

“It just is. I’m fine. Can we stop talking about it?”

“Poppy…”

“It’s only bad the first day. Ish. I’ll get over it soon.”

But by nightfall she hadn’t, so Tora put his foot down and insisted that they stay in a motel, not a car.

“Too expensive to be…” Poppy started. He shook his head.

“Ya need a shower, and a bed. One night. I could use one too.”

So she went in to purchase the room, while he was left in the car again, finally appreciating how those early days of her hiding out must have felt for Poppy.

Tora counted out the remaining money while Poppy showered. He scratched his head and put it away again. Even if they didn’t sleep in a motel again, they could maybe make it a week between food and gas. If they had emergencies or wanted to shower, or wash their fucking dirty clothes, the money would be gone even faster. And not to mention how badly he needed to smoke.

Poppy wasn’t going to like it, but there was no way around it. Burglary. He had to.

He heard the shower cut off. He ripped a page out of her sketchbook, then scribbled on it that he’d be back in a few hours. Tora hurriedly slipped on socks and shoes. He was opening the door to leave when Poppy said from behind him:

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll be back in a few hours," he sighed.

“What does that mean?”

“We need cash, Poppy.” He closed the door and turned to look at her, standing there with a towel around her and her dyed hair hanging long and wet around her gorgeous, perfect face.

“So what? You’re going to steal it?”

“…how else are we gonna survive, Poppy?”

“That car was enough, Tora. _That_ was survival, getting away from a place people had seen you.”

“If you didn’t notice, Poppy, you gotta eat to live, too.”

“Don’t do it, Tora.”

“The money won’t last forever.”

“Well, you said Quincey was working on a place. Let’s last as long as we can.”

He looked at her, hard.

“Please, Tora. This is all so awful. I don’t want to feel worse about this than I already do. If we can make it a few days, can’t we just… wait out those days? Before you do anything?” Her voice was soft and sweet and pleading, her eyes big and pained, begging him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, kicking off his shoes. “I swear to god, Poppylan.”

“Take a shower. You need one.”

He glared at her, but she only giggled and reached into the bathroom to toss a towel across the room at him.

\---

It was good to be clean. Poppy looked more comfortable that she had all day. She seemed better still after he offered to rub her lower back.

And better yet, at least from Tora’s point of view: sleeping in a car, he couldn’t hold her.

In a bed, he could and did. She spooned up against him, and stayed there the whole night.

The next day they drove further. Gas wasn’t cheap, so they stopped frequently, needing to keep their miles down without being seen in any place for too long. They took a nap in the car in a quiet parking lot. Charged the cellphone with the car charger. Used gas station bathrooms. Meandered their way slowly west, stopping for long stretches in parks, strip mall car lots, and other unassuming places.

\---

Forty some hours after his last cigarette, parked in a gas station lot, Tora begged Poppy to buy another pack.

“No, we can’t.”

“We have to.”

“The money is for food and gas. Nothing else. We’re running low.”

“Then I’ll just get us money. Why the hell is it so _fucking_ complicated with you?” He tapped his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel. Agitation. Anger. Restlessness. He felt like he was going to snap. He wanted to punch something. The aspirin was running low and despite popping them like candy, his head pounded painfully.

“Because stealing is wrong. You don’t _need_ to smoke.”

“Yeah I fucking do, you _goddamned_ …”

But Tora did not trail off, as those ellipses would imply. No, he _finished_ that sentence with a string of cuss words, each worse than the last, directed right at Poppylan.

With each word her eyes widened. She said nothing, but he could read the shock and hurt in her face. Her uninjured arm came up, her hand pressing against her lips as she turned away from him. He glared, opened his mouth to shout at her again for being sensitive, and then threw himself back against the driver’s seat. He turned and stared out the window.

“Sorry I’m not a goddamned fucking angel like you,” Tora spat.

Poppy was still silent.

He was still angry. Angrier than he knew what to do with. Rage was a familiar companion to Tora, but cigarettes helped control it. Now withdrawal compounded his problems, adding layers of irritability and anxiety and fury that he could scarcely navigate.

And shame, and regret, that he had said such cruel words.

“Fuck,” Tora snapped. “ _FUCK._ Poppy. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

“…It’s okay,” she whispered.

“Obviously, it’s not,” he said, voice raised. “Obviously, it’s fucking _wrong_.”

“I mean. If that’s how you feel…”

Tora threw his hands up and then slammed them against the steering wheel.

“Fuck, Poppy, it’s _not_ how I feel. At-fucking-all. I just need a cigarette. _Bad_.”

“You’re going to have to deal with it.”

He glared at her.

“You really want to deal with _me_ like this? Because I am _fucked up_ right now. Poppy. I need to smoke.”

“You’ll be okay, Tora,” she said wearily.

\---

They slept in the car again that night and were woken by the cell phone ringing.

“Okay. So I found a hunting cabin. It’s on a government easement in the middle of a park. White Lake national park. Completely remote.”

“Fuck, Quince, thank you,” Tora said, his head throbbing from the lack of cigarettes. Poppy stretched in the seat next to him.

“It’s not mine for another three days. You can’t show up before then, but you might as well get close. You don’t have GPS, do you?”

“No. Gotta road map.”

“Can you write this down?”

“One sec,” Tora said.

He reached into the back to get Poppy’s sketchbook and took notes. Quincey read off instructions on which turns to take on dirt and gravel roads and which landmarks to watch for.

“You sure ya old man won’t find out?” Tora said, making a final note on the paper.

“Shouldn’t. I didn’t handle anything myself.”

“Fuck, Quince, then who the hell else knows?” Tora snapped.

“Calm down, honey. A very nice, discrete lawyer handled the arrangements. Nobody’s finding out anything.”

“Fuck,” Tora muttered. “You know I hate lawyers.”

“Tell that to the prison sentence you didn’t have to serve, you Neanderthal. It's the same guy who did your plea bargain. Anyways, listen. I couldn’t move much money without Dad noticing…”

“So?”

“So the place is very… well… _rustic_.”

“I don’t give a _fucking shit_ , Quince. We just need somewhere to hide,” Tora snapped venomously.

“Wow, honey. Anger issues much?”

“…I quit smoking. Sorry.” His voice was a growl now.

“…seriously? You? Quit? Honey, oh my god. Wow.”

“ _Next fucking topic_.”

“The key will be under the mat. Remember, Honey. Three days, or the old owners could still be grabbing their things.”

“The fuck is with you people and putting keys under mats,” Tora growled.

He could practically _hear_ Quincey roll his eyes. Tora took a deep breath and then looked sidelong at Poppy, who was curled up in the passenger seat and blinking sleepily.

“…Quince. I know you’ve done a lot already...” Tora said softly.

“Is that another favor I hear?” Quincey asked.

“…yeah. Look. Stole a guy’s car. I have his address…” Tora reached across Poppy to open the glove box and pulled out the papers. “I know you have to be careful with money, but... think you could…”

“…How nice a car?”

“Beater. Maybe 4k.”

“Well, don’t I feel like a human piggy-bank,” Quincey said airily. “Text me the address. I’ll see what I can make happen.”

“...I owe ya.”

“Damn straight you do,” Quincey said. "Say you love me, and I'm fabulous, and we'll call it even for now."

"Fuck you, Princess."

"I'm waiting."

Tora glanced at Poppy, then muttered into the phone, "I love you and you're fabulous. Happy?"

"Very. Okay, I'd better go. Be safe."

After he hung up, Poppy leaned across the car and planted a kiss on his cheek. Tora blushed and glanced at her, still feeling tense and irritable.

“The hell was that for?”

“Doing the right thing,” she said.

“Gotta do that more often, then,” he grumbled.

“Yup. You’d better.”

“So if that’s for paying a loan, what do I have to do ta…”

“Don’t push your luck, cutie. I’m still mad at you.”

“Did you just call me ‘cutie?’”

“So?”

“Hm,” Tora said, and turned on the car.


	27. Cabin

Minh was running late for his train, and he still had to buy tickets.

Still, when the cute, short woman tripped over herself and went flying, he had to stop and help pick up her things. He was clumsy, too, and knew what it was like.

So clumsy he couldn’t even stop and pick up a book without getting in the way of the rest of the crowd. A hulk of a man bumped into Minh as his hands closed around the book’s spine.

“Oh, sorry,” Minh said over his shoulder, but the guy he’d bumped into was already a dozen feet away. Minh shrugged and turned back to the woman. He handed her the book and she thanked him with a horrified expression, her face one big blush.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Happens to me _all_ the time.”

Then he was off to the ticket counter. He barely made it in time and breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped onto the train right as the doors closed. He got a stick of gum out of his bag without checking the side-pocket where he’d stashed his keys and messaged his sister that he was on his way.

Nothing else notable happened to Minh until his wife called him that night.

“…huge dinner, as usual. But how are the kids?” he asked, pulling closed the guest bedroom blinds.

“Fine, but the strangest thing happened.”

“Oh?”

“Someone left a hamster on our porch.”

“…what?”

“A hamster. In a cage. With a weird note.” 

“Don’t tell me we’re keeping it.”

“I don’t know. Mai threw a tantrum when I said we’d think about it. I told her we could decide when you got home.”

“Great, so she can blame me?”

The phone call devolved into bickering. They made up before hanging up for the night.

Three days later he left the train station, rummaged through his bag, and realized the keys were missing. Minh groaned. Had they fallen out on the train? Fallen out at his sister’s? Why did this always happen to him?

He called his wife to ask if she could drive the spare keys over and walked into the parking lot with the phone up to his ear.

Where had he parked again? He was sure he’d parked right here…

The next hour was awful. His wife showed up, and then the police. Minh explained and explained again that both car and keys were missing. He got chewed out by his wife for not realizing the keys were missing for so long. The cops informed him that lost cars were not always found, but that given the timing it might have been taken by a fugitive who’d been spotted at the train station.

“Well, that’s exciting,” Minh said.

“ _Exciting?”_ his wife asked.

That evening a new snippet of information played on the news. A picture of the model of car and the license plate. “new lead on the case of…thought to have been stolen from the Ten-Falls train station around the same time as… if spotted, please report…”

The next day was not a good day. His wife was still mad at him for the car. Minh stepped on a lego piece his son left out on the floor, and then stubbed his toe when his daughter shrieked and startled him. His wife needed her car so he had to take the bus to work, where his boss screamed at him for no good reason.

He took the bus home and found a package on the porch marked _EXPRESS – OVERNIGHT._ He carried it inside, to find his wife muttering cuss words while sticking a band aid on her finger.

“What happened?” he asked as she smoothed the edges of the bandage down.

“The hamster happened. What’s that?”

“No idea.” He set down his work bag and cut the package open.

Six thousand dollars cash and a note on heavy cream stationary:

_Dear sir, thank you for the car. Apologies for inconvenience._

\----

Tora pulled into a gas station by the White Lake national park. Poppy got out to use the restroom while Tora, head down, stood up to stretch his legs. He was getting _real_ fucking tired of being in a car. They needed to get to that damn cabin or he was going to lose it again.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed two people having a heated conversation at one of the pumps. They kept looking over at him, at the car. Tora turned away, lips pressed tight. He got in the car and adjusted the mirror so he could watch them without being too obvious about it. One of them got out a phone and dialed a number.

Poppy came back to the car. She paused a moment, stretching her arms up over her head. He reached over and popped the door open.

“Get in.”

“What?” She sat down and closed the door. 

“Gotta go.”

“Why?”

“Think someone’s calling the cops. Fucking shit luck.” He reversed out of the parking spot and took back to the road. “Can’t get a damn break,” he snapped, fuming.

A bad situation, no two ways about it. Should have ditched the car and stolen another a few hours from here, but no way Poppy would have allowed that.

_Since when d’ya let her make decisions for ya anyways?_ Tora grumbled internally. But no use: it was what it was.

Too close to their hideout. Bad that the trail would point here, to the national park.

But driving a few hours away from the park would just mean the car was on the road longer. If the authorities _were_ looking for it, had put it together, they couldn’t keep driving it around…

He passed a sign for the park, and another sign for White Lake bus station.

Perfect. Tora turned and followed a winding, forest road. It ended in a large, wooded lot with buses and resort shuttles. Summer tourists milled about, backpackers and families and day trippers.

_Please let ‘em think we got on a bus_ , Tora thought as he parked.

They grabbed their things, slipped out of the car, and walked into the woods.

\---

Three days and two nights.

It took three days of non-stop walking, from afternoon on the first to afternoon on the third, to make it through the woods and up the mountain. Half the time they were uncertain whether they were even on the right path. They found a park map at a trail head and let it guide them past dirt hiking trails and gravel logging roads, twice crossing the winding paved parkway. 

They slept, or tried to, on a bed of pine needles. They woke shivering and sore, muscles tense and knotted, clothes damp from morning dew. It was the most miserable night yet, until the next one, where they had to do it again.

Poppy stopped using a sling for her arm; her shoulder was still tender but seemed to be healing well. Tora’s own wound had given way to shiny new skin that interrupted a small section of his tattooed sleeve.

At last their location started to match the instructions Quincey had given. For an hour they followed the turns and landmarks that they should have driven through in scant minutes.

By the time they reached the final steep, switch backed gravel driveway up to the cabin, Tora and Poppy were dehydrated and ravenous. Poppy had blisters on both of her heels and Tora was still a moody mess.

Nonetheless, Poppy let out a whoop of victory and Tora’s face cracked in a smile as he reached down to grab her hand. A metal gate across the road bore a sign that said PRIVATE PROPERTY. They skirted it and climbed the steep, rocky ascent to the hideout.

Then the cabin came into view. Even from the outside, _rustic_ was generous. It was a small log building, more like a shack than a house. The metal roof looked rusted, the windows small and shuttered.

Three large cardboard boxes sat on a sagging front porch. Tora stooped down to peel up the ragged door mat. As promised, he found the key and opened the door.

Quincey had bought the cabin furnished. Two chairs in front of a fireplace, a bed in the corner. Wooden storage chests, empty except for some musty towels and linens. A small kitchen with a gas stove, no fridge, and only the most basic cooking supplies. A tiny table just big enough for two.

The kitchen faucet squeaked on, and they drank from their cupped hands until Poppy, exploring, found a cabinet with chipped mugs and mismatched glassware. A further search revealed no food, until Tora remembered the boxes on the porch and brought them in. All three were quite heavy. He cut open the tape on one and looked inside.

Bags of rice, lentils. Jam, oil, flour, peanut butter, protein powder.

_Christ, Quincey. If we get outta this…_

“This is amazing,” Poppy murmured, digging through another box.

“Just surprised he didn’t leave us face masks and hair products,” Tora muttered, not trying to be mean but feeling awkward at the swell of gratitude building in his chest. If nobody came looking for them, they could survive for weeks without leaving the mountain.

“Well…” Poppy’s hand stilled. She tugged out a set of plain soaps, then a carton of condoms. Poppy blushed and dropped the contraceptives back in the box like they'd burnt her. “Apparently he thought about a _little_ more than just food.”

“Christ,” Tora groaned, blushing as well.

Food came first. Peanut butter, dried fruit, and terribly, chalky mouthfuls of protein powder mixed hastily with water. No time to cook; they were too hungry to wait.

Both wanted to be clean and to sleep, but some exploration was in order. They discovered a lean-to full of chopped firewood, connected to the house by a rope clothesline. A generator tucked beside one of the windows provided the off-grid cabin with enough electricity for lighting but little else. A metal well cover two dozen feet away revealed the source of their running water.

Tora let Poppy shower first. She emerged with chattering teeth and pale lips.

“It’s _freezing_ ,” she warned as Tora stripped off his shirt and went to scrub himself clean.

It was only mid-afternoon, but they were exhausted and sore, and climbed into bed. The mattress, although thin and lumpy, felt like a cloud after days of sleeping in a car or on the ground.

“Do you think we’re safe here?” Poppy whispered.

“Hope so,” Tora murmured back, and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Safe as anywhere else they could hide. And at least it was private property. No cops could enter without a warrant, and a car some thirty miles away was probably insufficient to get them one. 

Better if that damned car hadn’t been spotted. Probably some authority would go combing through the park. But with luck the bus stop they’d parked at would be a red herring in the search. 

\---

Before long they were both asleep. They awoke scant hours later to early evening and more hunger.

In the high mountain air, the falling sun brought a chill. Tora carried in wood from the lean-to and tried to start a fire without much luck, until Poppy came to help. She’d actually been camping, unlike him. Tora’s survival skills had more to do with gunshots and reading stranger’s faces than with how to stack twigs and logs for airflow.

Then she cooked while Tora tried his hand at washing laundry in the bathroom sink. It was hard work and he made it through only a few pieces before wringing them out and draping them in front of the crackling fire, hoping for a faster dry than the clothesline at night would bring.

They ate in front of the fire. It cast a warm, welcome glow over their hands and faces. Both watched the flames lick and dance up the logs, finding some primal comfort in this basic human tool. Too tired for real conversation, they listened instead to the hiss and pop of the flames, the quiet shifting of the wood, and the overwhelming chorus of summer bugs that streamed through the window.

They mutually agreed to leave the dishes in the sink for the next morning. By the time the fire died down, the hand washed clothes were were warm and dry. Poppy donned panties and one of Tora’s shirts; he changed into a pair of boxers.

They went to bed clothed in these few garments, perfumed by the scent of wood smoke and crisp mountain air.

Neither minded that the ragged blanket lacked heat. It was just one more excuse to tangle themselves together.

Tora ran his hand down Poppy’s back and up over the swell of her hip; wrapped his fingers around her thigh and caressed the back of her leg.

Fed, and comfortable, and soothed by relaxing at the fire, Tora took a deep breath and tried to apologize. He’d had the feeling since his outburst a few days back that some new distance had appeared between them. He wasn’t sure if it was what he’d said, or if it was just the strain of running, and hiding, and hiking, constantly hungry and afraid.

He’d tried a few times to bring it up, but the words kept coming out wrong, or not coming at all. All the nicotine was out of his system but he was still irritable and anxious from withdrawal. Everything was so awful lately, and he needed things to be alright between them. He didn’t want to think about the alternative.

“Hey, Poppy? …Are you still mad at me?” He rubbed his thumb along the bare skin of her leg, feeling desperate and hopeful.

“...No. Not really.”

“I was a dick. I wish I could take it back.”

“It’s fine, Tora. I know the last few days have been hard on you. They’ve been hard on me, too.” She trailed her fingers up his arm and laid her hand to rest against his naked chest.

“I just don’t ever wanna make you feel bad,” he told her. "I don't wanna be the _reason_ it's hard."

“Me neither. But it's okay. Let's let it go.”

“Let make it up to ya first,” he whispered. “Just tell me how. I’ll do it.”

“Well, if it’ll really make you feel better…” she tapped her cheek, the same way Tora had done before their first kiss. Moonlight through the slats of the window illuminated the motion.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, the ends of his mouth turning up slightly.

“Hurry, before I change my mind.”

“You’re so stinkin’ cute. You know that?”

He kissed her on the lips softly, then the cheek where she had pointed, then the lips again. He felt her shapely body press up to him, felt her breasts crush against his torso. Their bodies responded to each other, strain and tension melting away as if it had never existed. Poppy’s lips became firmer, insistent, meeting his gentle kisses with hunger and spurring him to respond in kind.

Desire made him brazen. Tora gripped her thigh and pulled her leg up around his waist. He pushed his hips forward, his clothed erection prodding against her abdomen.

His hand let go of her leg and slid up to cup her ass. Then Tora rolled to his back, pulling Poppy on top of him to straddle his lap.


	28. Wanting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! The smut-times are upon us!

Tora pulled Poppy down on him, and ground himself up against her. She leaned forward and their lips locked together. He was electrically aware of her breasts crushed on his torso, of the mound between her legs on the swollen shaft in his boxers, of her hands on either side of his head.

He gripped her ass for a moment with both hands, then ran one up under the baggy shirt she wore.

As he began to explore, so did Poppy. One of her hands came to trace along his torso, lingering below his rib cage before rising to skim his muscular broad shoulders.

He closed a hand around one of her tits. Poppy rocked against him, teasing a moan out of Tora’s lips at the friction. They both exhaled hard.

She rubbed her pussy against his cock again, fanning the flames of desire in him. The hand still on her rear drew around to her front and teased at the edge of her panties.

“Poppy. Is this okay?” Tora moaned.

“Yeah.”

His fingers pushed the cloth aside and dipped into her center.

“Mmn,” Poppy said, as his fingers slid into her. Poppy felt warm, wet, tight: welcoming. His cock pulsed and throbbed as he curled his fingers in her and stroked away.

He stared up at her and found himself straining to see her better in the darkness. She pushed herself up, her hands planted on his chest as her hips moved against his hand. She moaned, writhed, threw her head back and hummed her pleasure.

Tora’s cock ached. He drew his other hand away from her breast to find it. Sliding his hand under his boxer’s waistband, he jerked at himself with one hand and buried his fingers deeper in Poppy with the other. A bead of pre-cum spilled out of his head, slicking his shaft.

She brought a hand off his abs to take his cock from him. Poppy tugged down the waistband, and Tora lifted his hips so she could shove the boxers down below his cock. The rising motion ground their crotches together, a tangle of hands and sex; for a second the side of his dick bumped against the swollen folds of her opening. Their hands met on his shaft and for a moment stroked it together before he left it to her and grabbed onto her hip instead.

“ _Tora_ ,” she moaned.

Holy hell.

He yanked her panties down, needing better access; Poppy stopped straddling him so she could take them off entirely. He took the moment to strip his boxers entirely off, too.

Then he climbed on top of her, propping himself up between her legs. He found her clit and did his best to torture her, working the small, sensitive spot as best as he knew how, needing to hear her say his name again.

Poppy moaned, repeatedly, small cries escaping her lips with each exhaled breath.

She had both hands around his cock now, one on the head and one around the shaft, caressing his length. He grunted and swept his eyes over her. His baggy shirt had ridden up high, revealing her waist but still covering her chest. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the lines of moonlight; her legs were spread wide around him. Her hands looked small on his cock. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open wide.

Fuck. He wanted her. Tora hovered just over her, his dick inches from her pussy; their hands bumped against each other as they each stroked away.

It would be so easy to take her. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t take that from her.

But god. He wanted to, badly. Needed to feel her. Tora groaned and pushed his fingers in as deep as he could. He imagined fucking her. Imagined pressing his cock into her tight, warm shaft, the walls pressing against him.

“Fuck, Poppy…” He had to look away, at the wall. He’d never been teased so badly but he was doing it to himself.

Hovering on top of her was too much, too close. Tora rolled off Poppy and lay against her side instead. Her hands were still on him, his hand still in her. He kissed her, long, and full, and tenderly.

She let go of his cock and took hold of his wrist, stilling the motion.

“Tora,” she whispered, pulling her mouth half an inch back from his. “Can we talk about it?”

“What?” he asked. His lips grazed hers.

“Sex.”

His heart stilled for a moment. He drew his hand out of her and lay it on her abdomen. Tora propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her, then away.

“Poppylan. I…”

“…You said you don’t want to be a mistake. You aren’t. You could _never_ be.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, Tora, listen. I _do_ know. Yes, things are… awful, right now, but I’ve wanted you since before all this started. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. Just please stop using _me_ as the excuse not to.”

An excuse? Is that what she thought this was? _An excuse_? The crazy fluttering of his heart would argue otherwise. Just because she was too precious to fuck up, just because he was terrified of losing her, of making her hate him…

“You must be outta ya mind. Fuck, Poppy, I’ve wanted you since the first time I laid eyes on you,” he said hoarsely. 

“Then…”

“You said _no_ to sex more than once before this shit happened, Pops. How am I supposed to know you mean it now?” He stroked the side of her face and then stilled as she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

“I didn’t know you as well then as I do now. You’re sweet, and funny, and kind. I’ve seen you on good days and bad ones. I know what I want, Tora. _I want you_.”

“Fuck, Poppy,” he whispered. “Fuck. Okay then. I want you, too.” With a hand in her hair and a hand gripping her hip, he kissed her. Her arms wrapped around him, clinging to him, as he pressed himself to her. It was cold in the room, but Tora felt warmth sizzling through him everywhere they touched.

He broke his mouth away from her but held her a moment longer before, at last, standing up to find the box of condoms.

\---

_If_ you considered physical pleasure and nothing else, what they did that night would rank a few steps below his best sexual encounters.

And really—is that so surprising? Over the years he’d practiced this carnal duet across Narin City with women who were experienced and confident, who knew their bodies and how to use them.

In contrast, this was Poppylan’s first time. She was unsure of her body and uncertain what to do with it. She still felt insecure about her appearance and what Tora saw in her.

And yet: sex _is_ more than physical pleasure.

Therefore, their first time together was easily better than any night he’d spent before. He had _fucked_ , but he had never _made love_. Sex had never been emotional for Tora before this.

Where before he’d just seen a body, now he saw _her._ The woman he had been falling for ever since the first, life-changing moment he laid eyes on her.

\---

Tora set the wrapped condom on the edge of the bed, climbing back under the covers to take Poppy in his arms again.

Their lips met, and then he slowly drew the shirt over her head.

After so much waiting and desire, you might expect him to be hurried, or frantic. Instead, holding her naked in his arms, Tora wandered his calloused hands slowly over her body. He traced her spine, and lingered at the fullness of her breasts. He cupped his palm over her shoulder and ran it down her arm, his touch as reverent as it was hungry. Poppy turned her mouth up to him and they brushed their lips together as his heart thumped.

“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured to her. Wonder filled him at the knowledge that he was finally going to have her, that she was offering herself to him without hesitation.

At last he reached for the condom, ripped the package, and unrolled it over his engorged cock. Tora settled himself above her and gently spread her legs wide around him. With one hand, he located her center, a pool of warm desire.

His aching shaft teased at the place between her legs. Tora bent his head to kiss Poppy. He tensed his jaw against the near-overwhelming desire to plunge right into her and ravage her.

“Ready?” he asked. She clasped her arms around his neck and nodded.

Propped up on one hand, he used the other to guide himself inside.

Her opening was tight around his massive cock, a tighter fit than he had dared to imagine. Steadily, he pushed himself deeper. Poppy gasped as he buried himself up to the hilt, his groin grinding against her crotch until he was entirely coated in her wetness. Tora groaned with pleasure. God, she felt good. Felt perfect.

He needed to know what _she_ felt, needed to see her. In the moon-touched darkness, he could only make out general features; not the look in her eyes. He ran a thumb across her open mouth, trying to read her. She kissed his thumb as it brushed over her lips and he bent his head to her.

Tora pulled out an inch and ground himself forward again, his thick shaft slick with her. Poppy moaned, and her walls tightened even more around him for an unbearably blissful moment.

“How’s it feel?” Tora asked, his voice strained.

“…full,” Poppy whimpered.

“Good full?” he asked, his voice rough and wondering. The hand that had traced the features of her face wrapped under her neck and around her shoulders, holding her to him.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice choked with pleasure. She dug her fingers into his back.

He drew out and plunged into her again.

“Oh,” Poppy said.

He smiled, exhaled hard, and did it again.

“ _Oh,”_ she said.

“You like that,” he whispered into her ear, half question, half statement.

“I…”

But he rammed into her again before she could get the words out, and Poppy moaned _“Ah,”_ instead of finishing her thought.

He was quieter than her, but no further from pleasure. Each thrust into her sent waves of electricity through him, threatening to wipe out his vision, his smell, his touch; threatening to overwhelm every detail of the moment with a flood of passion.

He moved faster, ramming powerfully into her. Poppy shuddered and twisted under him, choked moans escaping her open lips. He grabbed one of her legs and brought it up around him, then the other. A grunt of pleasure escaped Tora’s lips as he felt her lock her ankles together around him, hugging herself up against him.

He slowed down and dipped himself in and out of her. Tora drew nearly all the way out until the full length of his shaft hovered outside her, just the tip of his cock grazing her lips. He lined himself up and pushed slowly back into her warmth.

Poppy’s head was thrown back now, mewls of pleasure panting out of her. He pushed one of her breasts up and bent his head to meet it, wrapping his lips around her nipple as Poppy tangled her hands in his long unruly hair.

“Tora,” she whimpered, and wriggled her hips under him, hunting for pleasure.

He could stand it no longer. He drew himself half out of her and slammed back in, rapid fire, borderline aggressive, fucking her hard and fast with his head thrown back and held-back moans escaping his lips as growls.

“ _FUDGE_ ,” Poppy cried out suddenly, “Ohhhh, FFf… _fudge!”_

Tora couldn’t help it; he laughed as he slammed into her, and paused to grind his huge cock deeper, rubbing his groin against her. God, even in the throws of passion she was adorable. He lowered a hand to where their bodies joined and thumbed firmly at her clit while he rocked in and out of her. Her walls contracted against him again as pleasure rocked her. Her hips moved up against him as she tightened her legs around him.

“ _Poppy_ ,” he moaned. “You feel so goddamned good.”

Tora pushed her down with one hand on her hips and began to thrust again.

Poppy moaned and kept gyrating up against him, fighting the hand he had holding her down; her movements were erratic and desperate, interrupting the rhythm he was trying to build. She clung to him with her arms and legs, pulling herself up against him. Soon she was panting, almost sobbing and choking on her need to feel him a little more, a little deeper.

He pinned her down and moved hard and fast in her, wanting to satisfy her.

Then all of a sudden, he had: she froze with her body tense and lifted; her mouth open and soundless. The moment passed and she collapse down into the bed. Her arms and legs released him; she sprawled flat and panted.

Tora kissed her and glided his cock in and out of her again. With Poppy satiated, he stopped trying to contain his own pleasure. He moaned loudly in her ear and rammed his shaft savagely into her, fast, then faster. He held her in place to stop her from sliding up the bed with each furious slamming motion of his cock.

“Poppy,” he growled. “ _Fuck._ Poppy.” He buried himself all the way inside her and let himself fall flat on top of her. Semen jerked out of Tora as the orgasm rode him for a long moment.

They both came back to themselves slowly. Tora drew his length out of her and rolled off her. Poppy lay limp. He gathered her in his arms against his sweaty chest and breathed hard against her hair.

She curled against him. Her hand slowly came up to rest on his chest. She pressed her lips against the base of his neck.

“You okay?” Tora panted.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“You sure?” he asked.

“ _Yeah._ ” she said, firmly, and reached up to press her lips against his. "That was... that was _amazing_."

\---

He cleaned himself off, then Poppy went to do the same. He sat up in bed and watched her stumble and shuffle back to the bed, where he pulled her into his arms.

Perhaps they would have been tempted to go again, had they not been so exhausted. Instead their lips met and moved gently together. Tora cupped the back of her head and felt his tired heart pound loud in his chest.

Love, real love, took time to grow. But then, they had lived through a lot together in the past week, and what lay between them now was deeper than what could normally be built in such a short amount of time.

Perhaps it wasn’t fully love yet; perhaps it still lay somewhere between love, lust, and infatuation.

Whatever it was. Whatever it could be called. It was overpowering, and it filled him to the brim, this confusing mix of pain and affection and desire and joy that he had never felt so strongly in his life.

Tora held her against him and wondered why the hell he felt like crying when he was so happy.

Maybe because he’d never felt that happy, before? He tilted his face down to the top of her head, grateful she couldn’t see his reaction. She breathed against his chest. He watched the steady rise and fall and knew sleep had already claimed her.

He didn’t lean down to kiss her one last time, but only because he did not want to risk waking her.

This woman.

Noisy, impulsive, headstrong.

Sweet, big-hearted, clever, stubborn.

Beautiful. As beautiful as a goddamned angel.

Despite everything bad that had happened, he knew one undeniable truth: he was one _hell_ of a lucky man.


	29. Riverside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line is from "The History of Love" by Nicole Krauss, which is a fantastic book but also one of the few things on my shelf that I could see Poppy owning.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy, as always I'd love to know what you think!

Like every morning of the past few days, Tora’s first thought was that he wanted a cigarette.

Unlike every other morning, his second thought was that he and Poppy were both naked. She stretched next to him peacefully, then froze, then stared at him.

He tried a smile. She smiled back.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he agreed. She planted a kiss on his cheek and slipped out of bed.

He watched her slip into clothing and felt himself stiffening. He turned away to avoid going entirely hard. When Poppy disappeared into the restroom, Tora dressed himself and rummaged through the boxes of supplies. He’d seen the green tea the night before when they first opened the supplies.

There was no kettle, but he set a pot of water on the stove. Then Poppy was done, and Tora went to the bathroom himself.

There he made a discovery. Squinting in the mirror with his tired eyes, he tried to fix his hair. He was having one of those days where a stupid piece of it stuck out the wrong way.

“Fucking _today_? Really?” he muttered to himself. No matter how much he tried to comb it out with his fingers it stuck up wrong. Maybe Poppy was too tired to have noticed. He didn’t want to look dumb in front of her. Not when they’d finally slept together. He wasn’t going to give her a single reason to regret it, if he could help himself.

She wasn’t in the main room anymore. He got his hat out of his bag—dirty, but who cared—and jammed it over his hair before collecting the mug of tea she’d left steeping for him.

She was sitting on the porch steps and staring at the woods.

“Do ya mind?” he asked.

“Huh?” she looked at him. He pointed at the steps. She shook her head and scooted over to make more room.

“How ya feel?” he asked, folding his long legs to sit beside her.

“Good.” She took a sip of the tea, and blushed. “Um. A little tender.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not exactly a small guy,” she muttered.

It was stupid, but he felt a bit proud. Not like he wanted her to be uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help it: damn straight he wasn’t a small guy.

“Sorry. I’ll, uh. Go slower next time.”

“… _that’s…_ not what I said…” Poppy murmured, trailing off. “Didn’t say it wasn’t _worth_ it…”

He put an arm around her and smirked. _Maybe more foreplay, then?_ He’d figure it out. Whatever he had to do to make her comfortable, because what happened last night definitely had to happen again. _Not a small guy_. Hah.

They sat in silence for a while, both tired and enjoying the view. They couldn’t see far down the slope because the trees blocked the view, but it was beautiful and serene. The landscape itself was nothing new after their days of hiking, but it occurred to Tora how different the woods looked when you were sitting comfortably on a porch than when you were fighting your way through it. It was like two different forests altogether.

He wondered if Narin City was the same way. Had he and Poppy lived in two different cities? He looked at her and was struck by the intense sadness settled over her face.

“…Hey. Poppy.”

“Huh?” She looked doe-eyed up at him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“…not about last night, is it?” he asked, his voice flat but his insides suddenly churning.

“No. No. It’s… you know. The others. My…”

She couldn’t seem to get the words out. He felt relief, even though he knew she was still struggling. Even with her reassurances about wanting him the night before, it was still hard for Tora to believe she wouldn’t come to regret being with him. Thank god she hadn’t yet.

“Co-workers?” he asked. She nodded.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tora asked.

“No. Thanks.”

They sat for another fifteen minutes or so. Tea finished, Tora at last got up and went inside. The phone had been dead when they arrived but was charged now. Though he knew they needed to keep communication with Quincey to a minimum, Tora at least owed him a thank you and confirmation that they’d arrived. Tora thought about it for a moment before texting a cryptic message that would mean nothing to anybody but Quincey. 

Because Poppy insisted on washing the last night’s dishes, Tora once again set to work washing their clothes by hand. He had done only a little of the laundry last night, and they were each wearing at least one dirty article of clothing at the moment. It was hard work of an entirely different sort than the type he was used to, and before long the cold water and the constant rub of fabric had his hands stinging.

“Are you hungry?” That was Poppy, appearing at the doorway. Tora nodded.

Well, he’d gotten through most of it now. And what was the rush to finish? They had nowhere to go. He wrung out shirts, pants, socks, and underthings, and carried the wet armful outside to the laundry line.

Back inside, Poppy handed him a plate. He stared down at what she’d made. Golden-brown, circular, and flat, it looked more like a pancake than anything else, but there was a smiley face on it, made out of little red pieces of dried strawberries.

“…pancake?” he asked.

“Sort of.” She looked a little frustrated. “If it’s gross, sorry. I had to improvise.”

\---

The woman drew another line on the piece of paper, connecting Martin to Vincent in the sea of other names written there. Goliath, half-naked on the bed beside her, twirled a finger through her long hair as she reminded him what they knew about both men.

“Easy enough,” he agreed. “So long as they don’t, you know, catch on and kill us painfully.”

“You haven’t been listening,” she snapped, not for the first time. She plucked his hand out of her hair, digging her long red nails into his skin for a moment. Undeterred, he inched his face closer to his boss’s neck.

“The shadow division is nothing to fuck with. If, or when, they catch on…”

“ _Honestly_ , Goliath.”

“Okay, explain it again,” he breathed against her.

“Insurance, you idiot. We take a hostage. They blame each other for that, too, but if all goes wrong, _we_ have a bargaining chip.”

“I don’t think Vincent Balthuman is _stable_ enough to care who we kill,” Goliath said. She pulled away from him again, rolling onto her back. She smoldered at him, half angry and half inviting.

“Depends who we take,” she said.

\---

They found the river on the second day at the cabin, while out gathering kindling for the fire. There were still plenty of big logs at the cabin, but they needed a large number of smaller sticks to get anything going.

The next day they wandered little further down the river and found a backwater. The little area pooled calmly off the side of the river, untouched by the current but clear and un-muddied. The bottom there was deep enough to be called a swimming hole, and one part of the bank was a rock overhang where they could sit and dangle their feet in the plunging pool.

The day after finding it, they did just that. Despite the cold nights, days were blistering hot, and the water provided some relief. It was cool, but not freezing, warmed a little by the sun.

Tora sat upright in his shirt and boxers, jeans, socks, shoes and gun on the rock behind him. His legs hung over the side, the water lapping around the tiger’s ears on his one tattooed leg. Poppy lay on her back next to him, her shorter legs dipped in only to the ankle. She’d come in shorts, so was fully clothed apart from the shoes and socks she’d removed.

She held an open book up over her head, occasionally turning a page.

He scrounged around where they sat for pebbles and sticks, throwing them one by one as far as he could. At last Tora was out of ammunition. He looked around for something else to do and found only Poppy. No video games, no guitar, no gym, no internet: she was his only entertainment.

“Hey.” He poked her.

“Hm?” She looked over from her book.

“Read to me.”

“What, right now?” 

“Yeah. I’m bored.”

“I’m in the middle. You aren’t going to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay. Fine. Um.” Poppy cleared her throat. “‘ _His tongue was in my mouth. I didn’t know if I should touch my tongue to his, or leave it off to the side so his tongue could move unconstrained--._ ’”

“Jesus, Poppy. Are all ya books pervy?” Tora asked, chuckling.

“It’s not pervy! It’s just a scene about awkward teenagers!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Anyways, what do you _mean_ , all my books?”

“Ya know. The ones with the spines stickin’ out.”

Poppy’s eyes widened at the news that Tora knew what was in those books. Then, before he could brace himself, she shoved him into the water.

“ _FUCK_ ,” Tora shouted. He floundered in a panic, splashing water every which way as his limbs flailed and smacked the surface.

He sunk down at an angle until his feet hit the bottom and shoved him back up. Shooting back above the surface, he discovered he could stand. It was deep but came only up to his shoulders.

“What the fuck,” Tora said, still gasping, with his eyes wide.

“Calm down, Tora, you’re fine,” Poppy said, cackling madly.

“I can’t fucking swim, Poppy. You trying to kill me?”

“You can’t swim? Are you kidding? Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“Well, sorry I didn’t fucking grow up with someone to teach me,” Tora snapped at her, striding through the water back to the rock.

“Sorry,” Poppy muttered. “I didn’t know. But look, you’re fine. All six foot three of you.”

“I’m starting to realize how often ya get away with being an asshole, just ‘cuz ya small and cute,” he griped.

“You learn fast,” Poppy said, still giggling.

“Help me out and I might think about forgiving ya.” He reached a hand out and she took it. “Both hands, Poppy.” He rested his other arm against the stone she sat on.

“No way,” she said, still holding the book. “You’re trying to trick me.”

“Christ, I’m not gonna… fuck, Poppy, just get me out of here. I'm a big guy. Ya gonna need both hands.”

She looked at him for a moment, his hair wet and flat around his head, a few strands hanging over his face and clinging to his cheeks. He glared at her. Poppy sighed and put down the book.

No sooner had it left her hand than she flew off the bank and into the water.

“Hey!” Poppy cried, disappearing under water for a moment before she kicked herself up over the water. “Totally unnecessary!”

“You started it,” he told her, smirking.

“You made fun of me!”

“I didn’t make fun of ya. I just said a fact.”

She splashed him. He splashed her back. She splashed him again. He picked her up, lifted her over his head, and tossed her a few feet away. She smacked into the water and kicked back to the surface, only to find Tora’s big arms wrapping around her and pulling her against him. He grabbed her ticklish spot and she flailed again, tossing water into his face. Tora turned his head to the side and backed up.

She swam over to the rocks and tried to pull herself up out of the water, scrambling with her feet against the flat side of the stone. She didn’t have enough upper body strength to lift herself out, and was too short to push off the bottom.

“Can you help me?” Poppy asked.

Tora came up behind her and wrapped his big arms around her stomach. He pressed himself against her, feeling her ass against his crotch and her breasts resting on top of her arms.

“Yeah, but ya sure you wanna get out already?” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m not giant like you. I can’t tread water forever.”

“Don’t have to,” he said, and pulled her hands gently off the rock. It was easy to spin her around; they were both weightless, buoyed by the water. He pulled her against him, wrapping his hands around her thighs, tantalizingly close to her center. Poppy wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. His lips pressed against hers, then he backed her up to the stones, pressing himself against her, fingers tightening around her legs. The water lapped around his shoulders and up to her chin.

“One more time, Poppy,” he whispered, as he hardened against her. “Ya _sure_ you wanna get out?”

She pressed her hips forward against him.

“I guess we could wait a bit,” she murmured, tracing his sharp jawline before tangling her hands into his wet hair. His lips found hers again, and their mouths moved together as Tora tugged at her shirt.

“What if…”

“There’s nobody here,” he said, his voice rough and ragged. He needed her, suddenly, badly. He didn't have a condom and probably fucking in a river was a bad idea, anyways, but his sudden onset of horniness argued against going back to the cabin just yet. He wanted to touch her here, touch her now. 

She nodded and raised her arms, her legs tightening around him for balance. The shirt billowed in the water but clung to her skin as he pulled it off her, then the bra. Then her full breasts were in his hands, visible under the clear water as he peered down and groaned, squeezing the soft flesh and feeling blood pulse lower in him. His cock, already stiff, extended a little further. His mouth was back on hers, then away again; Tora pushed down his boxers to free himself. He tugged at her nipples, then pulled her legs up a little higher, the front of her shorts rubbing up against his elongated shaft as her neck rose out of the water. He kissed his way up her neck as her hand came down to take his cock. He moaned under his breath as her hand wrapped around him. Tora had just closed his teeth softly around her earlobe when he felt Poppy stiffen.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

He froze and let go of her ear, fingers still digging into her chest and cock still hard in her grip.

“Bear,” Poppy whispered.

He turned over his shoulder slowly, inch by careful inch.

The bear was huge, brown, and easily 500 pounds. It waded into the river from the opposite bank, nosing through the shallow water there and—as of yet—paying them no mind.


	30. Flight or Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thiiink!

Slowly, inch by inch, Tora moved towards the Glock. He strained to reach it without getting out of the water, grabbing hold of his jeans and towing the weapon over. Then it was in his hand. The whole time he kept his peripheral vision focused on the bear.

With the gun in his right hand, he pulled Poppy against his left shoulder. He held her right ear against his chest, his left hand wrapping around to clap over the other one. Guns were fucking _loud_ in a way most civilians didn’t seem to understand. His hearing was already fucked up from years of working with firearms. Sometimes he got ringing, out of nowhere. No need to damage her ears, as well.

All his movements, though slow and steady, had the bear’s attention. The hulking beast stood upright, water sloughing off the coarse brown hair around its muzzle. Tora shifted his arm slightly with every movement the bear made. He tracked the spot right between the beady eyes. The moment the bear came towards them…

But the animal fell slowly back to all fours and waded downstream, away from them.

Tora and Poppy stood still for a long moment, both frozen, waiting to see if it would return. Then Tora stopped holding Poppy’s head against him. Poppy reached onto the rock and got her shirt, and Tora pulled his damn boxers back up. He lifted her out of the water and then pulled himself out onto the rock. They stuffed their wet feet into their shoes and headed back to the cabin quietly.

“That was so close,” Poppy said as they reached the door.

Tora shrugged. She stared at him.

“You really weren’t scared? My heart’s still pounding.”

“I mean. Had a gun,” Tora said.

“Yeah, but what if you missed?”

“I don’t miss.”

“Oh, come on.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “I know you’re a big scary guy, but…”

“Wasn’t even a hard shot,” Tora muttered, a little offended that Poppy doubted him. He almost wished he had shot the bear, just so she could see how perfectly he could hit the bull’s eye. Bear’s eye? Whatever.

Despite how well they got along, it was an undeniable truth that Tora and Poppy were very different. Their reactions to this particular danger illustrated that.

Given the choice between flight or fight, Poppy had a strong preference to flee. Now, although the danger had passed, she wanted to hide in the cabin and focus on returning to their new ‘normal.’

If ever somebody was _fight_ , that was Tora. He was glad to have avoided killing the bear—he had no desire to draw attention to them with a loud crack of a gun that would travel over a mile down the mountain, and why kill something if you didn’t need to? But having encountered such a primal danger up close, he found his senses on alert and his brain digging through every possible danger, his most basic instincts reacting to the need to protect himself and his woman.

The shower-stall of the cabin was too small to fit two people without Tora and Poppy being pressed right up against each other. They’d actually tried it the day before and had gotten very little showering done, not that either minded.

Now the mood was different. Something was on Tora’s mind; he ignored the way Poppy put her hand on him, and nodded her into the shower while he stayed outside to pace in the cabin. He went in when she came out, and her gaze tracked him as he entered the small shower stall to lather and rinse quickly.

He noticed her worried expression on him when he exited with a towel around his hips. He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her forehead to stop her from worrying, then drew on pants and went shirtless outside.

He needed to think. He stared at the woods, arms folded. Just one more danger for them to avoid. Vincent, and the cops, and now nature too. And though he was confident he could handle the wildlife, it was a reminder that this cabin was not completely safe. 

Because nowhere was. And he still didn’t have all the answers. What was he missing? What had been in that notebook? Whatever it was or wasn’t, Vincent would not forgive him or stop hunting them; that was just the crime lord’s nature. But it still mattered what was in there, because if it was a secret Vincent would kill Tora for…

Maybe it was a secret big enough to bring Vincent down. 

Tora heard the door open and close behind him, and then Poppy put a hand on his back. He didn’t turn around.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“That notebook. What else did it say?”

“What?” her voice fell. “Tora, I’m not sure… I don’t want…”

“I get it’s hard to talk about, with all the shit that happened.” He didn’t look at her because he knew he’d probably cave if he saw those big, pleading eyes looking up at him. So he kept staring at the trees instead. “But I need to know. And I think I fuckin’ deserve to.”

“Yeah,” she said, voice trembling. “…Okay.”

“So there _was_ more?” he breathed. She’d as good as confirmed the suspicion.

“Can we at least go inside?” Poppy asked.

\---

Sitting at the small table, Tora waited for Poppy to begin. At last she twisted her hands together and took a deep breath.

“Gil was the one who read the notebook first, you know. I guess I was in such shock after I… well, anyways, he took it off my desk by accident. But since it was my… um, lead? He let me decide what to… he was a really good guy, Tora.” she said, her voice breaking. He reached out and took her hand and squeezed it.

“…so I went through it on my own to figure out what to do. I mean, it was obviously trouble, you know? I thought about bringing it to the police, but I didn’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Why would it get me in trouble, Poppy?” he said, keeping his voice calm.

“…because the more I researched, the more almost everything in there had to do with your… um, organization. That’s why we published the story we did. It was the only bit that seemed distant enough. I mean, we knew those politicians were involved in mafia business, that was the whole point, but I didn’t think it would get you in trouble. And Gil wanted a story, so… no. That’s not fair. It’s not his fault. I wanted… to do something… worthwhile. To… have a purpose? To make my dad proud of me.” She blinked up at the ceiling, holding back tears. “I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Maybe it was,” Tora murmured.

“Not for what it cost,” she said fiercely.

“No. Not for what it cost,” he agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“So the other shit in there. Was it about me?”

“No. At least, not your name.” Poppy frowned. “I don’t remember all of it, Tora. Some of it, I do. It was a list of different guys who all seemed like big kingpin types, and stuff… like stuff they had done, with lists of witnesses, or evidence, details tying them together.”

“What guys? Do ya remember?” his hand tightened on hers until she winced, and he backed off, realizing he was crushing her.

“A few.”

Tora listened silently as she listed the clan elders. She got some of the names wrong but nodded at the corrections he offered.

“The worst was this guy. I guess the guy in charge of your organization because his name was Balthuman. Well, that, and most of it all pointed back to him. Um… Vinson? Vin…”

“Vincent.”

“Yeah, I guess. Sounds right.”

“What about him, Poppy?”

How could Goliath have possibly put together dirt on Vincent? God, the amount of work that must have taken was fucking baffling. Nobody covered tracks like Vincent. Tora had taken down so many fucking people over the years just to protect Vincent’s reputation. _Corpses can’t talk_ , Vincent had said more than once, directing a hit against someone whose only crime was knowing a little bit too much.

“All sorts of stuff. Murders, drug deals, which businesses were fronts and what for. And some weird stuff, too, that I couldn’t put together. Like… most of it was from the past five years or so, and pretty obviously bad once I did some research." She took a deep breath, frowned, and continued.

“But then some of it I couldn’t figure out. The weirdest was a date, about twenty years ago, and next to it two names, and I looked it all up. And the first name belonged to a woman and that was the day she was killed, they never found by who, but the other name was an orphanage that closed down a few years after. I couldn’t figure out what _that_ had to do with any of it.”

“The woman. Her name.” His voice was flat and dangerous.

“I don’t… I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

"Try."

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Tora got up and walked outside. He needed a moment.

It was painfully bright after the dimness of the cabin.

“Fuck. _FUCK,”_ he said. He punched a tree. 

Poppy was still at the table when he came back a few minutes later. She stared at him as his silhouette filled the doorway.

“Tora?” she asked. “Are you okay? Did I…?”

“What else,” he said, and sat back down.

“Do you know something? What that orphanage meant?” She asked.

“Just keep going. Anything you remember.”

“Why? Tora, does it even matter now?”

“It might. If ya don’t wanna die of old age in a fuckin’ cabin.” His voice was rough. For a man who was used to wearing a blank mask, to keeping his cool no matter what happened, this was a fucking struggle. Why hadn’t he gotten to that notebook before Poppy. Or gotten it from her. Taken it from her on the train.

Would he, if he could? Go back in time, screw over his chances of being with Poppy, undo everything between them, never get to know her?

Just for the name of his dead mother.

Maybe not. You couldn’t bring back the dead. But some dreams died hard. As long as he remembered he’d wanted an answer to that question and could never find one. And Goliath was dead, and the notebook was gone, and Poppy didn’t remember. And fuck if Vincent was ever going to tell. Hell, Tora could capture him, tie him up, and torture him within an inch of his life, and Vincent would probably still just spit on him and laugh. And it wouldn't even be because the secret needed to be protected, it would just be spite. Spite and control.

“You aren’t going to… do something, are you?” Poppy asked, voice trembling.

“What else you remember.” He knew he was terrifying her. Just from the look on her face. He gripped the edge of the table and tried to get his expression under control.

“I’m not sure I should,” she said, drawing her hands back and under the table, onto her lap. “If you’re going to put yourself in danger, I’m not going to tell you.”

“Poppy. You _know_ we can’t stay here forever.” His eyes bore into her. “The shit ya know? Maybe it’s enough to get us out of this mess. But I won’t know unless ya tell me.”

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t do something stupid.”

“ _Poppy_ ,” Tora growled, and turned his blazing eyes on her.

She shivered and shrunk back in her chair. But she pressed her lips tight and shook her head.

“I’m not fucking kidding,” Tora growled.

“I’d rather…” she gulped. “I’d rather have you angry at me than putting yourself in danger. That notebook got three people I care about killed already, Tora. I _won't_ let you be a fourth.”

“Fine. Fucking fine. I swear I won’t do something stupid.”

“You’ll stay here. With me. Whatever you hear?”

“Poppy… you gotta trust me. Whatever you know, I need to know.” He avoided promising to stay and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Why? At least tell me that.”

He closed his eyes and buried his face for a moment and took a deep breath. He knew what it was like, to not want to talk about something. Hell, he had been ‘not talking about it’ for his entire fucking life.

“Because,” Tora said at last, lowering his hands and looking at her. “Because that fucking orphanage? I got adopted. My brother didn’t. And it’s his notebook ya fuckin’ found. And his damn bloody shoe. We weren’t s’posed to be split up. But whatever the fuck Vincent Balthuman wants, he gets.”

“Tora. Oh my god.”

“So, Poppy.” He reached for her and she put her trembling hands in his. “I know you’re scared. Fuck, I get it. But please. _I need to know everything you remember_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry to everybody who wanted to see a bear fight. I did consider an alternative where it charged, Tora took it out with a perfect shot (why wrestle when you have mad sniper skills?), and they made a stew.
> 
> But this was the original plan before I cackled madly at all of y'alls comments, so... I decided to keep it the way it was. Go free, big furry bear. Go free.


	31. Lumberjack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm uploading this a little later than I usually do. I kind of struggled with writing today, so hopefully this chapter turned out alright!

Two days at an impasse. The argument circled between them. It never turned vicious, but neither was willing to budge.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Tora would say.

“But we don’t need to leave now,” Poppy would argue back.

And then Tora would appeal to her selfless nature, to the woman who he’d met saving cats from trees and going alone to Ares street to rescue Mr. Lam.

“You really want to let him keep getting away with shit, Poppy? Because with what ya found…”

“You can’t face him, Tora! It’s too dangerous!”

“Christ, I can take care of my fuckin’ self,” he would mutter.

“If you really want him taken down, I should go. It’s not like I’ll be arrested if I show my face. I’ll go to the police and…”

“Fuck no you won’t,” Tora would snap. “The second Vincent finds you…”

And so they turned in circles, repeating themselves.

At the end of the two days they at last reached a sort of compromise: by a conservative estimate, their supplies would last another three weeks or so. There would be no talk of leaving until then. Perhaps it would encourage Vincent to let down his guard. Or perhaps some clever plan would occur to them in the meanwhile.

Tora agreed, only because he wanted the time with Poppy. He knew it was unlikely that he would return once he left. Of course, part of him thought _this is fuckin’ silly. Just get up and leave. Ya know what ya have to do._ But so long as he left eventually… what was three weeks?

He was going to his death, trying to take down Vincent. So maybe he could delay the inevitable a little longer. Linger here, in this mountain cabin where time stood still, where day passed into day without meaning… so he agreed, and the arguing stopped.

They ate bland food from their dwindling rations. They washed the laundry. In the lean-to, Tora found an axe for chopping wood and a maul for splitting it. He kept fit running and doing bodyweight exercises; sometimes Poppy joined him. They swam in the river. They made love in the shower, in the bed, in front of the fireplace, and—once—outside at evening.

Poppy made a chessboard with her sketchbook paper, shading in squares and then ripping up and labeling bits of paper for the pieces. They played, and found themselves evenly matched.

In his head, Tora tried to compose the letter he’d write to Poppy when he left. There would be no second discussion, no new argument. When the time came, he’d put how he felt onto paper, and he’d vanish.

The first week ended. The second began. Neither acknowledged it, but both knew. They were each counting down the days.

\---

Tora noticed Poppy out of the corner of his eye. He brought the maul back up over his shoulder, flexed a little, and slammed it down on the log again. The wood split with a _crack._ He grabbed the pieces and tossed them onto the pile in the lean-to. Tora grabbed another log.

It was still an odd feeling to him. Most of his life he’d hated being stared at. It was usually for a bad reason, like someone wondering _is this guy gonna mug me_ , or someone he had no interest in trying to make a move on him.

But he liked the way Poppy’s gaze felt.

He knew he looked good, too. It was late morning and hot out, so he was shirtless and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his back and arms rippling under the tattoos with each powerful stroke of the maul. His long hair was pulled all the way out of his face.

Pretending he didn’t see her, he split the next log and took a moment to stretch. In his peripheral vision he could see her spreading their towels and pillowcases over the laundry line, slowly. She hesitated, adjusting and re-adjusting them. Maybe not wanting to go back inside.

Tora smirked. He glanced over his shoulder, and locked eyes with her.

“Need somethin’, sweetheart?” he asked.

“…no-o,” Poppy said.

“Ya sure?” He slung the maul over his shoulder and flashed his dimples. “’Cuz I got plenty of wood, if ya…”

“Tora! Oh my god.” She blushed and covered her face.

He chuckled and turned back away, grabbing another log.

“Oh gosh,” she muttered, and took a deep breath.

He brought the maul down in one powerful blow, driving it straight down the center of the log. The wood fell to either side, split clean in half.

“Excuse me. But... do you do… home deliveries?” Poppy asked.

“Uh… what?” Tora turned back over his shoulder, rested the axe-like head of the maul on the ground, and leaned against it like a cane.

Poppy cleared her throat.

“Um, if I… bought some of those logs… would you help me get them home?”

_The fuck?_ Tora thought. _She trying to make this some sorta game?_ Thank god for his years of listening to Quincey’s manuscripts.

Tora was _pretty_ sure he knew what to do.

“Sure thing… _miss,_ ” he said with a lusty wink. Poppy blushed, bit her lip, and looked away from him.

He stood the maul against the lean-to and gathered an armful of firewood.

“So, where do you want it?” he said.

“…is this weird?” Poppy said suddenly, her blush deepening and her voice trembling. “Um, I mean, are you into it?”

“Into it? It’s a job. Pays the bills.” He smirked.

“Tora, that’s not what I…”

“Look, miss. You want firewood or not?” he said, his voice shaking with withheld laughter. God, she was fucking adorable. _She’d_ started this, and now she was freaking out and blushing over whether or not he’d be into it. As far as Tora was concerned, if they were about to fuck he didn’t really care how it happened or what games they played to get there. He’d go along with whatever she wanted.

He pushed his way inside the cabin and tossed the logs in a pile next to the fireplace. He turned to find Poppy standing right in front of him.

“So, ya gonna pay me now, or…” he said, his voice low and suggestive. He felt the front of his pants tightening.

“Well, the thing is, I’m out of cash…” Poppy whispered, toying with a strand of hair.

“This shit isn’t free, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’d better find something else to offer, or it’s gonna be one cold fuckin’ night.”

“Well, what do you want?” Poppy asked.

“Doesn’t seem like ya have much here,” he said. “Don’t see how you’re gonna…”

“You can have _me_ ,” Poppy suggested, turning bold. Her eyes met his and didn’t break away. Damn, he loved when she stared him down like that. It was like she’d flipped a switch. Away went shy Poppy, at least for a moment.

“You?” he breathed. Tora closed in on her, his torso brushing against her breasts as his arms settled on her waist. 

“You can do… anything,” Poppy whispered, still holding his gaze. She rested her arms on his biceps.

_Anything_? Fuck. Why was that so damn hot?

“Anything,” Tora repeated, bringing his lips a centimetre from hers.

“Yeah,” Poppy said, and rose on her tip-toes to kiss him.

Tora pulled away, a hairsbreadth out of her reach, their lips almost grazing. Poppy made a little frustrated moaning noise and fell back flat on her feet.

“I wanna go down on you.”

“Oh.” Her face fell.

“You said _anything.”_ Tora hadn’t tried again since before their lives had gone to shit. He knew Poppy hadn’t enjoyed it much that first time, so he hadn’t pressed the issue, but he wanted to taste her. And more than that, he wanted to make her feel as good as _he_ felt when she put her lips around him.

“I don’t get why you’d want to,” Poppy muttered. “And it’s embarrassing.”

“One, because you’re fuckin’ hot. And two, I don’t see why, because you’re fuckin’ hot.”

Poppy snorted and shook her head.

“Well, you’re right. I said ‘anything.’ If that’s what you want…”

“Well, not if you’re gonna be uncomfortable. Shit, s’posed to be fun.” He scratched his head and frowned. “Tell ya what. Let me fuck ya, and we’ll call it even. You can have a nice big fire. Hell…” he leaned back down and murmured, with his lips against her cheek, “I’ll even help you _light_ it.”

“…no.” She slid her arms around his back, linking her hands together and holding him.

“No? Jesus, Bobby. I can’t keep up. Just tell me what ya want from me.”

“We already struck a bargain. You said you wanted to go down on me. So… I hope you will. I really don’t want to be cold tonight.”

\---

He took his time working down her body, wanting her to relax. Poppy lay naked on the bed, panting as Tora plunged his fingers in and out of her and kissed his way slowly up and down her torso and neck.

She reached for his pants, but he pushed her hands away.

“Thought I got to do what I wanted,” he rumbled, before closing his lips over one pointed nipple and swirling his tongue in a tight, firm circle around it.

If she started playing with his cock now, all bets were off. He’d get distracted and miss out on the opportunity to bury his face between her legs. No, he had to focus.

If he only had two weeks or so left on this earth, left with Poppy, he wanted to do this first.

He worked her with his hands until she was moaning and moving against him, and his fingers were drenched with her. Then, carefully, deliberately, Tora inched further down the bed and kissed his way towards her center.

He kissed the inside of her thighs first, and then around her: back up to her hips, back down towards her clit.

Lightly, he trailed his tongue up the folds of her pussy. Her flavor was delicate, a light acidic tang, a hint of sweetness. What the hell was there to be embarrassed about?

“Poppylan,” he murmured.

“Yeah?”

“I love how ya taste,” he said, with sincerity. He bent his head back down to her. Kissed the insides of her thighs again. He lay one hand across her abdomen. Licked her opening again, softly, without much pressure. Teased a finger back inside her and pressed his lips against her clit, then gently ran his tongue over it.

“ _Ahh_ ,” Poppy said.

“Does that feel good?” Tora whispered, and ran his tongue gently over her again.

“…maybe,” Poppy said.

“Maybe?” he chuckled, and slowly flicked his tongue up and down across the small nub of pleasure.

“Nng… sorta…” Poppy said. “But if you don’t like this…”

“…Why do you keep thinking I don’t wanna do this?” Tora asked.

“Well… my ex…”

…Did she seriously have to talk about that prick while Tora’s face was buried between her legs? The idea that _he_ was on her mind, at a time like this, was a sour one. He _knew_ she was happier without Julri, didn’t want him back, didn’t love him… but damn if Tora didn’t still feel a flare of jealousy at the mention of the guy. He frowned and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Jesus, Poppy. I’m _not him_.”

“…I _know_ , I just… it’s hard to understand why you’d be interested in…”

“Christ. Jesus.”

He pushed himself up into a kneeling position and unbuttoned his pants, shoving them and his boxers down.

“Tora? What are you…”

“Look.” He grabbed his erection, gesturing to the fullness of his taut, throbbing cock, at the precum smeared across the head and beading at the tip. “You wanna know why? It’s pretty fucking simple: _ya turn me on_. Or is this not _interested_ enough for ya?”

“I wasn’t trying to make you mad,” she whispered.

“ _Fuck_. I’m not mad.” He bent over her and reached out to grab her hand. He held it tight. “If you want to stop, _I’ll stop_. But don’t compare me to that _fucking dickwad_ , Poppy, ’cuz I’m not him, and he and I don’t want the same damn things.”

“…Okay,” she said. “Tora? The whole, ‘comparing you’ thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t _help_ comparing how different you are. But you know he loses every time, right? By a landslide.”

“You mean that?” Tora grumbled, squeezing her hand.

“Tora… of course. he’s got _nothing_ on you. I was completely done with him even _before_ I started caring about you, and there is _nothing_ that could make me go back. You know how much you mean to me, right?”

That soothed him, a little. He already could have guessed it, maybe, but it felt good to hear her say it out loud. He bent over her, leaned down, and kissed her softly.

“So d’you want me to stop?”

She shook her head no.

“Are ya sure? It’s okay if you do, Poppy.”

“Yeah, I'm sure. Don’t stop.”

“Ya change your mind, you let me know.”

He lay himself back down between her legs.

“Tora?”

He peered back up at her.

“Just. Afterwards? Can we still… you know? Like usual?”

“You asking if I’ll fuck ya?” he smirked.

She blushed and nodded.

“Oh, sweetheart. You better believe I will.” He kissed the inside of her thigh and looked back up at her.

Unless she told him to stop, he wasn’t going to put his cock inside her until after he made her cum. But while he’d figured out what she liked when it came to his hands, he wasn’t sure how to push her over the edge with his mouth. He wanted to try a few different things, to figure it out so he could make her feel as good as possible.

“If something I do feels good… will you let me know?”

Poppy nodded. He began to experiment, more determined than ever to pleasure her. To make her forget about her past, and beg for _him_ , for _this_ , for _now._

Small circles. A flicking motion. Up and down, side to side. Pressing his tongue against her, like pushing a button. Gently sucking at her. Using his lips instead of his tongue. Kissing her there. He paid close attention to each reaction, her noises and movements, and when she pulled a little at his hair, and when she didn’t react at all.

He traced letters on her. A, B, C. She seemed to like it.

He traced more, choosing letters he found himself thinking lately but knew he couldn’t possibly say out loud. I. L, O, V, E. Y, O, U. She moaned. He knew she had no idea what he was writing on her with his tongue, but still felt a rush at having done it. Tora wrapped his lips around her small nub and moaned back, making her writhe a little against the humming sensation.

Now that he knew a little what she liked and what she didn’t, he began trying to build her up to an orgasm. He moved slowly, using only light pressure. She let go of his hair to grab the hand he’d rested on her abdomen. Tora laced his fingers through hers and held on. With his other arm, he drew his fingers out from her pussy and gently pushed her legs further apart.

\---

When she finished, he lingered for a moment longer, resting his tired tongue. His lips buzzed with all the exertion and friction. Tora stepped out of his pants and unrolled a condom over himself; as much as he loved her hands and mouth, he needed no other warm up. After hearing her moan, and _feeling_ her moan, and tasting her, he just wanted to be in her. Needed to be in her. He lay down on the bed, arms around her, both facing each other on their sides.

Poppy kissed him, then pulled back.

“What?”

“I can taste myself on you. That’s weird,” she said, with a soft giggle.

“Mm,” Tora said, and brought his lips back to hers. He drew her leg over his and found her opening, then lined his rigid cock up against it.

It was hard to get inside her at this angle, both of them on their sides. He pushed his girth into her slowly, groaning as Poppy panted and cried out with pleasure. He gripped her hips and kept pressing until he’d jammed himself all the way in.

“Unng,” Tora moaned. “God fucking dammit, Poppy, you feel so good.”

“So do you,” she whimpered.

“Yeah? You like this?” he said through gritted teeth.

“ _Yes_ , Tora,” she whined.

He rubbed himself against her, pushing her top leg higher up. Tora dragged himself halfway out of her and then pulled Poppy against him, around his cock, sliding her down his length as a throb of pleasure flexed through him. 

“How good?” he growled.

“ _So_ good.”

He pushed her hips away, sliding her across the sheets and up along the shaft of his cock, then dragged her back down again.

“Really fucking good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she moaned back.

“Say it.”

“Really… f….”

“Say _fucking good_ , Poppy."

“Tora…”

He pushed her away again. The condom was slick with her juices, and despite the added tightness of the angle she glided down when he pulled her against him. Gripping her to him he rolled her onto her back, making his way on top of her with his enormous erection still buried in her. Tora grunted and slid out halfway, then teased her by dipping himself only a little bit deeper. He bobbed slowly in and out, just moving an inch or so, never going all the way in, never coming all the way back.

“Mmnn… ah…” Poppy moaned, and grabbed his ass, trying to pull him in deeper.

“Say it,” Tora commanded, resisting her pull. He’d never heard the word _fuck_ leave Poppy’s lips before. He wanted to, suddenly. Add it to the bucket list of things he wanted from her before he left.

“Tora… you feel f… _fucking good_ ,” she said, still trying to pull him deeper.

“Good girl,” he growled, and gave her what she wanted. What they both wanted.

His cock slammed forward and he ground himself against her, burying himself as deep as he could. He pulled out only to slam against her again, hard and fast, ravaging her as best as he knew how until they were both delusional with bliss and breathless from crying out.

He rolled them back over, planting her on top of him. She had never ridden his cock before. Poppy tilted her hips this way and that and moaned a little as she rocked against him. Then she tried to slide herself off and on him again but struggled a little to get the angle and the rhythm right.

“Tora? How do I do this?” she asked.

He did not have the patience for a lesson, halfway through fucking. He just needed to feel her, and wanted to see her on top of him, see her bounce up and down.

He grabbed her hips and did it for her, pounding her against him as he lifted her up and down his shaft. His own hips rocked up to meet her entrance.

She threw her head back and moaned, and they both lost themselves again. When Poppy pushed his hands away and took over, mimicking the motion he’d been guiding her through, Tora lost all control.

The point of no return claimed him. He sunk below the surface, everything vanishing apart from Poppy. His mind clung to her like a drowning man clinging to a life-raft. Pleasure rose high above him and then crashed down in a decimating blow. With a final loud cry, he ejaculated, and it was over.


	32. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuun!

Later that afternoon, Tora went out back to take down the laundry. Poppy stayed inside, fiddling with a recipe for making flatbread with the flour that Quincey had provided.

Tora had half the laundry off the line when he heard an unwelcome sound. It was unmistakable: tires crunching up the steep gravel drive. Somebody was here.

Fuck. Police? Balthuman? Some lost civilians ignoring the _private property_ sign to ask for directions?

He dropped the laundry onto the dirt. Poppy was inside. His gun was inside. He couldn’t reach the doorway without making himself visible to the car.

He opened the shutters on the window nearest him. Poppy spun, wide-eyed; from her expression she’d clearly heard the noise as well. Tora held a finger to his lips and vaulted through the window. He landed in a crouch as soft as a cat, then pointed to a corner by the door. Poppy nodded and made her way to it.

They both could hear a car door slam shut, and the sound of hurried footsteps.

Tora padded towards Poppy, grabbing his gun along the way. Positioning himself between her and the doorway, he brought his face up to the shuttered window. He looked through the narrow slats, knowing he would be invisible from the outside.

The car was expensive, but unmarked. Not police. Not a park ranger. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to tell from the distance whether anybody was inside.

Somebody knocked at the door, hard and fast. Peering sideways through the shutters, all Tora could see was a sliver of the back of a guy’s head. Dark hair and average height was not enough to identify the figure.

Tora’s mind raced through quick calculations.

If it was a civilian at the door and Tora answered, he might be recognized. Then there would be hell to pay, whether he let the guy go or took care of him.

But if the guy was Balthuman and Poppy answered… well, Poppy was not going to be answering the door, that was for certain.

If they didn’t answer the door at all…

“Hello?” The voice was deep and musical, traced with the faint hint of an accent. “…Tora?”

_Fuck_. So, not a civilian.

_Somebody knew they were there._

It was easier to kill than to wound, for Tora; it took less control. But he needed answers just as badly as he needed to eliminate whatever threat this was. Tora tucked the gun in his waistband and slipped to the door. Three, two, one.

In an explosive motion, he opened the door and slammed through it. Tora rammed his fist into the guy’s stomach and twisted him into a side headlock. Just as Tora’s arm closed around his target’s neck, the guy vomited from the punch, narrowly missing Tora’s shoes.

Good god, this guy was fucking weak. Not muscular; no conditioned response. Shrimp-ass excuse for a man. Tora dragged him easily away from the door—the guy didn’t even resist, apart from to drag his feet—and peered into the car. Empty. So it was just this dude?

Tora grabbed the guy by the neck with one big hand and slammed him back against the car.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, please let me go,” the guy babbled. Tora ignored him and studied his face. Skin a shade darker than Tora’s. Dark hair, dark eyes, prominent nose and sharp jaw. Familiar. He’d seen him before.

“You’re that damn lawyer,” Tora muttered, and loosened his grip. He’d met with this guy a few times when he was last arrested, at Quincey’s insistence. And then Quincey said he’d handled the purchase of the cabin, too; a long cry from criminal defense, but Quincey seemed to trust his work.

“Fareed,” the guy reminded him. Fareed slowly sidestepped away from Tora’s hand, which had loosened entirely. The guy rubbed his neck where Tora had held him, wincing.

“What, so Quincey didn’t fuckin’ think to tell me you were coming?”

“He didn’t send me,” Fareed muttered. He gulped, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Quincey is… gone.”

“Gone?” Tora repeated, voice low but sharp. _Gone_? What the hell did that mean?

Fareed nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I thought… I hoped you could help me.”

“Who knows you’re here?”

“Nobody.”

“Yeah right,” Tora said.

“I swear.” Fareed held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Christ,” Tora muttered. He patted the guy down to make sure he didn’t have weapons; Fareed did not resist. This guy was not a fighter; no threat to Poppy, at least so long as Tora was there. “Ya better come in.”

He pushed Fareed towards the door. The guy stumbled. They both sidestepped the vomit and entered the cabin.

“S’Quincey’s lawyer,” Tora muttered by way of explanation to Poppy, who was still hiding in the corner.

“Fareed,” the lawyer said again, and held out a hand to shake hers until Tora pushed him away, towards the table.

“Do you want tea?” Poppy offered.

“What? Oh…” Fareed said.

“Sit,” Tora interrupted, and stood with his arms crossed. Fareed complied quickly. “Tell me again. Gone? The fuck do you mean, he’s ‘gone?’”

“Exactly that. I cannot get a hold of him. His condo is empty. He is not answering his phone.” Fareed fiddled with his watch, rotating it over his wrist. His body language screamed terror, but his voice was calm and flat now, trained to obedience.

Poppy busied herself heating water, one ear tuned to the conversation.

“How the hell do you know his condo’s empty?” Tora asked, eyes narrowed, trying to figure the guy out.

“I have a key,” Fareed muttered, his chest caving.

“Why the hell d’y… never mind. How long ago?”

“Three days.”

“So maybe he went on vacation,” Tora said.

“No. I would know.” Fareed stopped fiddling with his watch and peered up at Tora. “Something happened to him. I’m sure of it.”

“How?”

“Because we… well, we…” Fareed winced and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Who else knows?”

“…about me and Quincey?” Fareed muttered.

“No. Christ, ya fuck. About him _missing.”_

“His father,” Fareed whispered. “And the rest of… them.”

Was this a trick? There was always a chance. Tora grabbed the phone and called Quincey, pacing while keeping his eyes on Fareed. No answer. Hadn't Quincey just gone through a break up? Was this guy serious, coming all the way out here and busting into their hide out to save Quince? If Fareed was lying, it could be a trap. But if Fareed was telling the truth...

Tora owed more to Quincey than he owed to anyone. And all debt aside, Quincey was family. The closest thing to family he had. There was no choice, no doubt, no calculation. Only one thing to do.

Tora tried Quincey again. No answer. He growled and called Gyu.

“…Bro?” Gyu asked on the fourth ring. 

“Quincey,” Tora said.

"...Missing," Gyu said, his voice thick with emotion. 

"Yeah, so I fucking heard. What happened?"

“Nobody knows.”

“The _fuck do you mean_ , nobody knows?”

“I mean, all the clan elders are blaming each other, and the big boss is tearing the city apart,” Gyu said, his voice shaky. "It's hell here right now."

“Why the _fuck_ am I just hearing about this now?” Tora snapped.

“…thought you were gone for good,” Gyu said.

“God fucking damn it, Gyu,” Tora growled, and hung up. He shoved the phone in his pocket.

So Fareed was telling the truth. Quincey was gone.

Tora had to go to Narin City, and there was no way in hell he was taking Poppylan with him. This cabin was the safest place for her.

Take Fareed and leave Poppy alone? Or leave them here together? He didn't want Poppy alone. But he didn't want her with a strange man, either. 

Tora spun on Fareed just as Poppy put a mug of tea in front of the lawyer. She held another towards Tora, who glared it away and folded his arms.

“What else? You have a lead?”

“No,” Fareed said. “I thought… maybe you…”

“Maybe I _what_?”

“Quincey said you are like brothers,” Fareed said, his ears reddening slightly. “I thought… please.” The guy peered up at Tora. “Can you help? Will you find him?”

Since before they arrived, Fareed had known the address of the cabin. No hit team had shown up, no hint of trouble. He could have made a fortune selling them out to Vincent, if he wanted. But he had not.

But to trust him with someone as precious as Poppylan? It was a lot to ask. But what choice was there? Tora's head spun. Quincey trusted Fareed. Tora trusted Quincey. Fuck. Damn. Okay. And the guy wasn't a fighter. Hell, Poppy could probably take him if it came down to it. She had a mean jab for someone so little and sweet.

“Listen.” Tora took two steps forward and buried his fists in the guy’s shirt, dragging him up. Fareed stumbled out of the chair. “ _Anything_ happens to this chick while I’m gone? You’re worse than fucking dead.” 

He didn’t especially care for Fareed, but the guy was too good at his job not to be smart, even if he was acting like a panicked chicken just now. And at least _he_ wasn't a goddamned fugitive.

“I hear you,” Fareed said. Tora let go.

“Keys,” Tora said. Fareed dug them out of his pocket and held them out. Tora grabbed them.

“No,” Poppy said as Tora grabbed her next, his hands wrapping around her. “I’m going with you.”

“Like fuck you are,” he whispered to her softly. With a hand on her back and a hand in her hair, Tora leaned down and kissed her. His eyes fluttered closed as their lips met. He tasted her, breathed her in. One last time.

“Listen,” he whispered in her ear, so only she could hear. “If I don’t come back…”

“Tora,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t…”

“…I love you. I know it hasn’t been very long, but I do.” 

“Tora. I…” she whispered, but he was pulling away. She grabbed his arm as he turned, holding onto him with all her strength. "Wait!" Poppy cried. But he brushed her off easily, left the cabin, got into the car.

Poppy ran after him. The car turned quickly and accelerated down the drive. Her run slowed to a walk as it vanished from view. She fell to her knees.

“I am sorry,” Fareed said, a dozen paces behind her. Poppy didn’t turn to look at him. She stood up slowly, her face blank, and walked back into the cabin. She dragged out her bag and began to pack.

“What are you doing?” Fareed asked, coming back inside.

“Going after him.” She paused and looked at him. “You don't have to come.”

“I think I’d better,” Fareed said nervously. “I think Tora will kill me, if I don't.”


	33. Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Thank you all so much for reading :)

To be blunt: Quincey looked like a hot mess.

Three days in the same clothes. No skin care, no hair products, no shower. He’d split his lip trying to fight off the guys who took him, and for what? Every move Tora had drilled into him was useless against them. Or rather, Quincey was useless against them, moves or not. He just wasn't programmed to fight. At least the lip was closed back up now, but it still felt puffy and sore. 

Then, on top of his appearance, the whole ‘fearing for his life’ thing. Or the fact that his wrists had been handcuffed so long that he would have given his pinky toe just for five minutes of stretching.

He sat on the floor, his back against the wall.

For the tenth time, he tried to raise his spirits by dispassionately cataloging the room and passing judgment on everything in it. The gaudy silk wall hanging with the dragon on it clashed with the painting of the tree on the opposite wall. The cables to the widescreen T.V. were a tangled mess, sprawling on the floor. Yes, this place was as tasteless as the man who lounged on the white leather couch, smoking and playing on his phone.

A cell phone began to ring. Not Goliath’s, but Quincey’s, face up on the coffee table. Goliath leaned forward lazily and picked it up. He read the name on the screen, turned the volume off, and set the phone back down. 

A minute later the phone began to ring again, buzzing as it vibrated silently across the low table.

“Who the fuck is ‘BB?’ anyways?” Goliath asked. “'Baby?' You cheating on that guy who keeps leaving you voicemails? _Sweet, please answer,”_ Goliath said, mocking Fareed’s accent.

Quincey’s face was grim, his mouth tight and angry as he leaned towards the coffee table. He reached his handcuffed arms towards the phone calmly, as if Goliath would let him take the call if he acted casual about it.

“Nope,” Goliath said, chuckling. He picked up the pistol next to him and pointed it at the blonde man. Quincey sighed and leaned back against the wall.

The first few times Goliath pointed a gun at him, Quincey’s heart had accelerated, and his blood had run cold. But in the end, Goliath hadn’t shot him for humming a pop song, or shot him for saying the wine Goliath was drinking was the worst vintage that vineyard had ever produced and that only an idiot would have wasted their money on the ’05.

“You aren’t going to hurt me,” Quincey said.

“Fuckin’ try me, chihuahua.” Goliath smirked but put the gun back down next to him.

“If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead already.”

“My woman wants you alive. Me? I don’t give a fuck.” Goliath turned back to his phone, leaning into the couch.

For a moment, Quincey thought, Goliath looked uncomfortably like Tora. Hair and comparative scrawniness aside, he had the same dead-in-the eyes expression in his amber gaze, his mouth the same flat line, the spliff hanging off his full lips just like Tora’s cigarettes.

“Can I ask you something?” Quincey said.

Goliath didn’t answer. Quincey kept his blue eyes locked on Goliath. 

“Why do you hate me?”

Goliath’s eyes flicked to Quincey, then back to his phone. The blue haired man said nothing.

It was a genuine question, not a tactic to throw Goliath off guard. Quincey had mulled the question over, these past few days. It was clear to him that there was some grudge between the two of them. It felt personal, unlike the people who hated him because of his dad, or his good looks, or his flawless style.

Quincey had more than enough reason to hate Goliath. _He’d_ hated Goliath since long before his abduction. But as far as the diva was concerned, Goliath had no reason to hate him back.

“…is it my Dad? Or is it Tora?”

“Not letting ya go, so shut up,” Goliath said without expression. He took the rolled paper out of his mouth and snuffed it into the ashtray on the coffee table.

“It can’t be something I did, right? I always tried to be nice to you,” Quincey continued. “And even when you got Tora in trouble, I never told our dad that—”

“Our dad?” Goliath drawled, looking at Quincey over his phone. “ _Our_? Your daddy mighta _bought_ him, but he’s _not_ your brother.”

Ah. So he’d hit a nerve. Interesting.

“I know it must have been hard, being split up, but Tora—”

“Listen, fucktwat. You’re not related,” Goliath growled. “He’s _my_ damn brother.”

“Maybe he _was_. Brothers don’t do what you did.”

“Yeah? The fuck you know about that?” Goliath tossed his phone to the side and leaned forward on the couch, staring at Quincey.

“I’m the one who was there for him,” Quincey said. “When _you_ started dating that chick he liked, who stayed up with him? When _you_ got him arrested, who paid his bail? When _you…”_

Goliath jumped up off the couch and paced back and forth. It was eerie how similar some of his habits were to Tora, and yet how different the two men were. _If Dad chose differently,_ Quincey thought _, would it be Tora in this room with me and Goliath calling on my phone? Or is the difference something deeper, something… inside them?_

“Yeah, you were always the goddamned hero, huh? Must have been really fucking easy, living in your mansion with your chauffeurs and your bodyguards, and…”

“That has absolutely nothing to do with…”

“You and your rich fucking daddy can suck my damn…”

“As if I would _ever_ ,” Quincey snapped. “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot stick. _You_ are a complete ass. Even your _name_ is stupid.”

“Oh, you fucking…”

“Do you even know the story? _Goliath loses_ , you ignoramus.”

“Tora doesn’t give a shit about you,” Goliath bellowed, spinning to face the blue-eyed man. “You know what he used to call you behind your back?”

“If he doesn’t give a ‘shit about me,’ why is he calling me?” Quincey snapped.

“Tora’s not…”

“Yeah, he is. _That_ was him. Calling me. Not you. _Me._ ”

“Your dad probably paid him to. Just like he pays him to…”

“You don’t know the first _thing_ about our family. You have no _idea_ what Tora and I have been through together.”

“I don’t give a shit. It doesn’t fucking make him your brother!”

“He’s going to find me, you’ll see.” Quincey hunched his shoulders forward, glaring his feet instead of at Goliath.

“Tora isn’t going to save you!” Goliath yelled. He grabbed the gun off the couch and took three wide steps to where Quincey sat on the floor. He squatted in front of Quincey and pushed the gun up against the blonde man’s forehead with one shaking hand. “He’s not fucking coming for you!” Quincey winced as spit flew out of Goliath’s mouth and landed on his cheek.

“He is,” Quincey whispered.

“No, he’s _fucking not._ It doesn’t matter if you beg him, he’s not coming. He’s gonna ignore you and when you vanish, he’s not gonna give one fuck… one… goddamned…” Goliath drew in a ragged, hard breath.

“ _Boys._ Put down the gun.” The voice sliced through the air. Goliath slowly lowered the gun and stood, then stumbled back to the couch, his face expressionless again.

The woman stood in the doorway, her hands gripping either side of the frame. She glared at Goliath, then looked at Quincey, then back at Goliath. Quincey slowly raised his handcuffed wrists up to his face, and wiped off the spit with the back of one hand. _Oedipus Rex much_? He thought. She was stunningly beautiful, but old enough to have been either of their moms.

“I am _trying_ to work. Keep it down,” the woman said. She tapped her long red nails on the door frame, then turned and left. Goliath sneered at Quincey silently.

“What happened?” Quincey said. “You asked him to come and he didn’t, is that it?”

“Shut the fuck up, chihuahua.”

Quincey might have felt bad for Goliath, if the asshole hadn’t just threatened him repeatedly. But right now was too mad to feel anything but satisfaction at the thought of Tora ignoring Goliath. Tora _always_ came when Quincey asked him to. Maybe not right away, but he came. They _were_ brothers, no matter what this blue-haired gold-eyed weak impression of Tora had to say about it. And served Goliath right, after what he'd done. Actions had consequences.

“...And at least _I’m_ not banging someone old enough to be my mom, you pool-boy pop tart,” Quincey muttered under his breath.

\---

“…Shit,” was the first word out of Tora’s mouth. Then he walked through the doorway as Gyu shut and locked it with one hand. Gyu's other arm was wrapped in a full plaster cast.

Cast aside, Gyu looked troubled. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his hair was an unwashed tangle.

Tora felt a pang of guilt. In some ways, Gyu had it easiest out of their trio. Gyu had not been kidnapped or had to run for his life. But for a moment, Tora imagined being the one left behind while his friends fled or vanished. He frowned.

“Good to see you alive, big bro,” Gyu said.

“Vincent?” Tora asked, nodding at the cast.

“One of his guys. Yeah.” Gyu shrugged. “I think I got off easy, to be honest.”

“Maybe,” Tora said. “Still. Fuck. Sorry.”

The beating must have been when Tora left, because there were no other signs of it. Any bruises or cuts had healed and faded; only the broken bone was left as evidence.

“I’ve had worse,” Gyu said awkwardly. “C’mon, sit down and I’ll catch you up.”

It took almost an hour for Gyu to tell Tora everything that had happened. When he finally finished, Tora leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling. It was like putting together a puzzle without any idea what the picture on the front of the box was like, and all the pieces were the same color, and you knew some of them were missing but not how many.

But. It couldn’t be coincidence, all the rumors and accusations flying around the clan right now. Couldn’t be coincidence how neatly it lined up with the things Poppy told him she remembered reading.

No way. Whoever was behind this, whoever had made Quincey vanish, had read that damned notebook.

“Bro? You think… he’s… alive, right?” Gyu said at last.

Tora shrugged. Gyu’s face fell, his lips parting as a pained look filled his eyes. Tora sighed and tried to fix it without lying: “Probably. Can’t say. But he’s worth more alive.” Years of muscle memory overrode weeks of withdrawal. Tora reached to his pocket for a cigarette before he remembered there was nothing there.

“How can you be so calm?” Gyu asked.

Tora looked at Gyu blankly. Calm? The fuck said he was calm? Just because he didn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve…

“We got work ta do,” Tora said. “Can you track his phone?”

“Quince…? Fuck, don’t you think I would have already? He… or someone… has the GPS off.”

Who had read that notebook? Vincent, but he wouldn’t do this. Even if he turned on his son, who he loved more like a possession and less like a human being, it just wasn’t Vincent’s style. He had nothing to gain from tearing his empire down.

“Scharch and Claude. What are they up to?” They were the ones who had killed Poppy’s coworkers. Stood to reason they had brought the notebook to Vincent, and maybe read it along the way.

“Scharch? I thought… weren’t you the one who…?”

“Spit it out,” Tora growled when Gyu trailed off.

“…Scharch was found dead, in a motel room. Claude said you…?”

“Oh. Fuck, right. Didn’t realize he died. Claude?”

“Damn, big bro. How do you kill someone and not even…”

“Focus, Gyu.”

“…right. Um, I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything.”

“Alright. I gotta pay him a visit,” Tora said, standing.

“I’ll come,” Gyu said.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. Ya only got one working arm,” Tora said.

\---

Claude came out of the bathroom to find Tora standing in his living room.

“Took ya long enough,” Tora said.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the MMA champion snapped. He lunged towards his bookshelf and the gun that rested there.

_Really?_ Tora thought. As if that was going to even the playing field at this short of a range.

Tora closed the gap between them as Claude swung the handgun up. Moving as fast as a bolt of lightning, Tora grabbed the gun by the slide. He pushed it to the right while twisting himself to the left, out of the line of fire. Claude shot; the bullet slammed into the apartment wall instead of into Tora. The tiger's grip was so tight on the slide that the gun jammed.

During this, with his other hand, Tora punched Claude.

The fucker’s nose was already crooked from their brief fight in the motel room, where Tora had kneed him in the face before stealing his car and running away with Poppy. Now Claude’s nose gushed blood again.

Tora wrenched the gun out of Claude’s grip and took a step back. That was two guns of Claude’s he had now; this one and the one he’d taken from the trunk. _Maybe I should start a collection_ , Tora thought with grim humor as he cleared the jam.

“Give up, you fuck. Or do I have ta hit ya again?” The tiger drawled. He could barely hear himself; his ears were still ringing from the gunshot.

Claude drew his lips back in an ugly grimace but didn’t move.

“The hell do you want? Here to finish me off?” Claude snapped. He lifted a hand to his nose and winced when he touched it, then drew his fingers away and looked at the blood on them.

“Nah. Well, maybe. Haven’t decided. Where’s Quincey?”

“Why the hell should I know? You’re the damn traitor. Why don’t you ask your fucking Ninedaggers dogs?”

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Tora. Like it isn’t fucking obvious.”

“Yeah, no. Spell it the fuck out.” Tora pointed the gun at Claude.

“Jesus, don’t…”

“Tell me. The fuck do you mean?”

“Just… because… Balthuman is fucked and… Ninedaggers is picking up all the business… so…”

Tora stood without moving for a moment, the gun still pointed at Claude. He thought.

Who _did_ stand to gain, from the chaos in Narin City? Not Balthuman. Not even clan elders who might want to replace Vincent. Business was down; all their pockets were hurting. And from what Gyu told him, they all had a little mud on their names right now.

Ninedaggers. Ninedaggers was benefitting.

And who _had_ read that journal, besides Claude, and Poppy, and Vincent, and the trail of the dead?

Well, the man who’d written it.

And if Tora knew anybody who loved the spotlight so much that he’d probably fake his own damn death just for the drama it would cause…

“Oh, god fucking dammit,” he muttered. “Look. You tell Vincent, Martin, whoever the fuck, I was here? I’ll come back and I _will_ blow your brains out.”

He turned and left the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

He glanced up and down the street as he left: empty. Tora slid into Fareed’s car and grabbed the flip phone. He opened his text chat with Quincey, silent since their arrival at the cabin.

If Quincey was taken without his phone, it would have long since died. But when Tora called him from the cabin, it rang before going to voicemail. At that point, Quincey had been gone for at least three days. _Somebody_ was keeping it charged.

Which meant whoever had Quincey had Quincey’s phone.

Which meant Tora could use it to communicate.

He typed out a simple message and hit send:

_Goliath, you absolute fuck._


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter today y'all!
> 
> I might not post an update tomorrow, I'm not sure. I'm really excited for some of the scenes I have coming up ahead but I've been feeling a little burnt out the past few days and I feel like it's affecting the writing quality a little. So no promises either way, I'm going to have to see how I feel tomorrow. Next chapter will be up by Tuesday at the latest, though. Anyways... thanks for reading!

Poppy and Fareed picked their way down the mountain, tracing the same roads Poppy and Tora had taken on their way up. With the car, it would take Tora only about three and a half hours to get to the city. On foot, it would be over two days to just reach the bus station.

Twenty minutes in, the gravel road to the cabin intersected a dirt logging road. Poppy stopped to inspect the map, uncertain which direction to turn.

Helpless. Hopeless. A fire burned in her. She needed to get back to Tora, to stop him from risking his life, or at least to watch his back while he did. Or if all else failed, just to tell him that she felt the same way about him… she'd already asked Fareed if he had the number to the cell phone Tora carried, but the man had shook his head and apologized. Quincey had asked him to purchase the hide out; that was all.

Days. Days behind him, and stuck in the woods on foot. Helpless. Hopeless. She blinked down at the map and tried to read it. It was a simple enough dilemma. Were they supposed to turn left, or turn right? But her brain clouded and panicked and spun and Poppy had the space for only one thought: not directions, but a phrase echoing relentlessly in her head:

_If I don’t come back… if I don’t come back… if I don’t come back…._

Just what was he expecting to happen? A tear fell from Poppy’s eye onto the map.

“Let me see that,” Fareed said gently. He took the map from Poppy and studied it. “Left. There is a resort… five miles away? I think we can arrange for a ride from there.”

For a moment Poppy frowned and opened her mouth to explain why they couldn’t go in public. But…

Tora wasn’t there. _Fareed_ didn’t have to hide his face. And Poppy was only supposed to hide so that Vincent didn’t find her.

They were headed straight _to_ Vincent, weren’t they? So why bother with secrecy now? And more important than staying hidden was getting to Tora.

Better to hike five miles to a ride than thirty to a bus stop. She nodded, turned left, and began to walk. Fareed folded the map and followed her.

“May I ask a personal question?” he asked as they walked.

“Yeah.”

“Just, I recognize you. From the news. Forgive me, but… aren’t you meant to be dead?

\---

_Goliath, you absolute fuck._

Goliath stared down at Quincey’s phone screen.

The first thing he felt was fear: his name. He’d been found out.

The second was anger and disappointment. Was Quincey telling the truth? This ‘BB’ was Tora? So his brother knew he was alive, and _that_ was the only message he chose to send? No, _holy fuck, you’re alive, thank god?_ No, _bro, long time, can we talk_? What, hadn’t Tora blamed himself at least a _little_ bit for letting Goliath “die?”

“Tch. Fuck you too,” Goliath muttered. He typed out a response, then deleted it. He turned off the phone and put it in his pocket.

“Who was that? Was that Tora?” Quincey asked from the floor, a paper plate balanced on his lap.

“Shut up and eat or I’m takin’ the rest of ya dinner away,” Goliath growled.

\---

Tora watched as the _read_ symbol appeared, then the three dots that showed someone was typing.

Then the dots vanished. He sat in the car and stared at the screen. A minute passed, then another. Then five. No response came.

He called Quincey’s phone. Straight to voicemail. It had been turned off in the few minutes since Tora’s text sent.

So whoever saw his message hadn’t liked it, and hadn’t wanted to hear more. Yeah, definitely Goliath.

Maybe Gyu couldn’t track Quincey’s phone, but now they had a lead. Gyu had pulled off enough miracles for Tora that the tiger knew what the guy was capable of. Maybe it looked like Goliath had vanished into thin air, but somewhere there was a trail.

There was _always_ a trail.

He popped open Fareed’s glove box while calling Gyu from the flip phone. Gyu picked up on the second ring.

“I need ya to find Goliath,” Tora said, tugging out a stack of papers and flipping through them for Fareed’s address.

“Eh? You don't mean that two-timing bitch is alive?” Gyu said.

“Yeah. He’s got Quince.”

“Fuck. _Fuck that guy._ You’re kidding, right?”

“…nope.” Tora's voice was clipped, brusque. He was pissed at Goliath, too. Hell, he was _usually_ pissed at Goliath. It didn't mean he liked hearing other people talk about what a shit guy he was. Even if it was true.

“Alright, I’ll check the database for any records of ‘Goliath’…”

“No. His legal name.” As if _Goliath_ would be on a lease or a deed. Tora found Fareed’s registration and put the other papers back away. He hesitated for a moment, fiddling with the paper and sitting in silence while Gyu waited. It was a name Tora had not said in years, a name that perhaps nobody in Ares street even knew. “…try ‘David.’ And last name…”

“…got it, big bro. You coming back?”

“No. Probably shouldn’t have gone to your place at all. Never know who’s watching.” Tora put the keys in the ignition and turned on the car. “I got a place I can wait. Call me as soon as you find something.” He pulled away from the curb and drove towards Fareed’s address.

\---

By the time Poppy and Fareed finished their 5-mile hike and arrived at the resort, Tora had just pulled into Narin City on his way to Gyu’s.

They waited outside the resort for the twenty minutes it took a cab to arrive, then sat in silence for the twenty minutes it took to reach the nearest car rental. Then there was another wait, and Poppy sat in the rental lobby while Fareed filled out paperwork and pulled up his insurance on his phone, and paid.

It was three and a half hours drive back to the city.

“How are we even supposed to find Tora?” Poppy muttered, staring out the passenger window as they finally entered the city limits. It was night now, and had been for some hours. The sky was not black, but deep blue from the city’s light pollution, the stars hidden by the glare of streetlights and buildings that never went dark.

Fareed glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and stopped for a red light.

“I’m not certain.” Fareed thought for a moment. The light changed and he accelerated. “We can go to my home. I have access to records, paperwork… perhaps we can figure it out.”

Poppy nodded and kept staring out the window.

“Maybe his friend,” Fareed continued. “The one he called from the cabin.”

“Gyu,” Poppy said absently.

“Yes. Gyu.”

“He has to be okay,” she whispered to herself, needing it to be true.

“Of course he is okay. That man is a force of nature. Just like the animal for which he’s named.”

“What?” Poppy turned and looked at the profile of Fareed’s face. “I didn’t think you really knew each other. From, um, how things went. At the cabin.”

“I’ve seen his records,” Fareed said with a shudder. “He _is_ okay. And he _will_ find Quincey.”

From the look on his face, he needed as much comfort as Poppy did. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

\---

It took three and a half hours for Gyu to find an address.

Digging through data and records was like a game. Boring sometimes, and often fruitless, but bit by bit you could draw connections, build a picture, solve a puzzle…

A purchase from 8 months ago and another bill from 6, both in Goliath’s birth name, billed to an address owned by a woman. And a new lease in that same woman’s name that appeared two weeks before Goliath’s supposed death…

Maybe. Possibly. Something?

When Gyu called Tora, Tora was holding a framed picture of Quincey and Fareed and frowning at it. Fuck, Quince had to be okay. _Had_ to be. No, just _was. Was_ okay. And when it was over… well.

He had to rethink his stance on Fareed. On principle, he hated anybody who Quincey dated; nobody was good enough for Quince and like hell was Tora going to watch him get his heart broken again.

…But whether or not Tora had a jaded view of lawyers, Fareed had kept the cabin secret, and then had taken a risk to beg for help. He’d looked desperate. Maybe nobody’s heart had to get broken. And shit, the guy had a nicely framed picture on his tidy bookshelf, like he and Quince were some fucking suburban married couple...

Christ, how old was the photo? Tora knew the two guys had known each other for a while, but he thought it had been a working relationship only. It was only a few weeks ago that Tora had comforted Quincey about some guy who he ‘wanted’ who wasn’t ‘right for him.’ And not long before _that_ that Quincey had bemoaned a cancelled date.

Well, then again, Tora hadn’t been with Poppy long either, but… something about the photo seemed intimate, serious. You didn't frame a picture of someone when you were just starting to see them, right? Not that Tora was an expert. He was starting to wonder if…

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone call from Gyu.

“If Goliath isn’t there, it’s at least someone who knows him,” Gyu said. Tora memorized the address and jogged back out to the car.

He turned off of Fareed’s street just as the rental car turned onto it.

“…is that my car?” Fareed asked, squinting at the vehicle disappearing from view.

“Follow it,” Poppy snapped without hesitation, her back suddenly straight.


	35. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so kind in your messages! I really appreciate it. This is the best community :)

The address took Tora to an old industrial brick building that had been converted into loft apartments. Though the interior looked modern and chic, security was lacking: no guard, no locked entryway.

Apartment 10 C, top floor. Ten flights was too many damn stairs. Tora took the elevator. He used the ride to fashion lock picks and a tension wrench from the paperclips he’d taken from Fareed’s desk and the screwdriver he’d found in the man’s closet. Not as good as a real set of tools, but he was used to making do.

The elevator doors opened to a quiet hallway with a single light fixture and four doors. He padded to ‘C’ and picked the locks slowly and quietly, but when he tried the knob, the door wouldn’t open. There was a lock or bar on the inside and no keyhole to access it. Figured.

For a moment he thought about kicking the door in, but decided the window was a safer bet. After all, it was not a _guarantee_ that Quincey and Goliath were inside, just an educated guess. Kicking down the door was a little too bold of an announcement for a fugitive to be making.

So he turned around and found the stairwell, and ran up to the roof, trying to keep himself oriented as to which corner of the building was apartment C. It was cold and blustery so high up, the wind snatching at his clothing and whipping his long hair around his head. He paused to pull all of it into a bun rather than the half he normally gathered; he couldn’t afford to be distracted or blinded hanging ten floors above the ground.

Then he swung himself over the side of the building, scraping the edges of his feet into the thin concave mortar joints of the bricks. Inch by inch Tora lowered himself, breathing steadily and keeping every ounce of his focus on the wall, not the plummeting ground far below.

Then he was balanced on the sill of a window, with his hands pressed against the jambs. He peered inside.

The room was lit by a flickering T.V. screen, currently playing a commercial. A blue-haired man—definitely Goliath—lounged on the couch, facing away from Tora with one hand thrown over the back. A figure sat on the floor in the shadows. Hard to tell without the T.V. casting its glow, but Tora would have bet money on it being Quincey.

Normally in this situation, Tora would have two choices.

One, stealth. He could pick and ease the window open and drop to the ground as silently as any feline predator. He could stalk up behind his target, under the cover of the television’s noise, and take his prey unaware.

Two, brute force. He could smash through the window and barrel across the room like a stampeding, rabid animal, before his target could so much as get himself standing up and turned around.

But this was an unusual situation. The ‘target’ was his dumb ass, backstabbing, immature, angry little brother. Tora wasn’t going to kill Goliath, and Goliath wasn’t going to kill him.

So Tora simply lifted up his fist and rapped on the window with his knuckles. Goliath spun and scowled. Tora waved.

Goliath took his time getting up from the couch. He shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his gun, then walked to the window. He unlocked the window and slid it open with one hand, the other pointing the gun at Tora.

“Ya know you could just push me off,” Tora said, smirking at the gun.

“Fuck off,” Goliath muttered as Tora hopped through the window.

“Tora!” Quincey yelled, confirming that the figure against the wall was, in fact, the Balthuman heir.

“The hell were you thinking?” Tora said to Goliath, as his brother finally lowered the gun. “Hands down, dumbest fucking plan you’ve ever had.”

Goliath looked like he’d been slapped.

“Yeah, stupid fucking me, didn’t think you’d come for _this_ prick when ya didn’t even come for your own _fucking brother,”_ he snarled.

“Christ, Goliath, the hell are ya talking about?” Tora shook his head and took a step towards Quincey.

Goliath grabbed Tora’s sleeve.

“I said they were going to kill me. You didn’t show.”

“Did too, you fake-dead fuck. Let go.” Tora smacked Goliath upside the head, enough to bruise, not enough to do real damage.

_“…Don’t move_.” The woman’s voice was as cold as steel but as smooth as silk. She appeared in the doorway beside Quincey, a gun pointed lazily at the blonde man’s head. With a step she closed the distance between them, and pushed the gun up along Quincey’s face like a caress.

“ _Let him the fuck go_ ,” Tora growled as a sudden panic gripped him.

His heart thumped, his blood surged, his brain stopped and started a dozen times. Tora felt like he’d been turned inside out. _Keep cool, keep fucking cool_. Fuck, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Quince. Not while Tora watched. A moment ago this had been some dumb situation with an easy path out of it, just another one of the countless messes in his relationship with Goliath.

But now…

“Keep your distance,” the woman said as Tora took a step closer.

“She won’t shoot,” Quincey said, his voice trembling.

“Of course I will,” she said blandly.

“Who the hell is this?” Tora said to Goliath, his eyes deadly. The whole room got two degrees colder. The woman looked… familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

“What’s he doing here?” the woman said to Goliath.

Goliath didn’t answer either of them.

“Let go of Quincey and I won’t kill ya,” Tora said, his voice every bit as cold and deadly as the woman’s.

“Oh, I’m _so_ _scared_ ,” the woman sneered. “Goliath, handcuff him to the wall, or I _will_ shoot. Now.”

“…Sorry,” Goliath muttered to Tora. The blue haired man removed the handcuffs from Quincey while Tora stood frozen in place. Then Goliath pointed Tora to where he wanted him, an exposed pipe running up the wall, a reminder of the building’s old industrial roots.

“You’re fucking kidding, right? The hell game are you two playing?” Tora growled at Goliath, refusing to move.

“Quickly,” the woman said.

She pressed the gun harder against Quincey’s forehead, and a whimper escaped the blonde's lips. Quincey had already decided Goliath wasn’t going to kill him. But this woman? He wasn’t so sure.

Neither was Tora. She was an unknown.

He could always track her. He couldn’t, however, pick up pieces of Quincey’s brain and patch the guy back together. He had to accept this momentary defeat.

“You know I fucking hate you,” Tora informed Goliath, putting his hands up to the pipe so his brother could handcuff him.

\---

The car always seemed to be one turn ahead of them, disappearing from view as they sped after it around corner after corner. They finally caught up outside an apartment building.

_Tora_ , Poppy knew when she saw how the driver had parked at a crazy angle. He’d pulled up to the building quickly and cut across multiple spots, heedless of anyone else who might wish to park there.

“It _is_ my car,” Fareed confirmed, eyeing the license plate. They parked the rental and ran inside, only to be met by… nothing.

They couldn’t have been more than a minute behind him, but the entry hallway was empty. No sign of Tora.

“Look,” Poppy said suddenly, pointing at the elevator.

An LCD screen above the double-doors was slowly counting up: 7… 8… 9… 10. It froze there. Poppy smashed the button for the elevator to return to them. They impatiently watched it count back down, then entered and hit the button for the tenth floor.

They rode in silence, both scared of what they might find, clueless as to where Tora was going and why. Was he pursuing a lead? Visiting a friend? Settling a score?

The numbers counted higher. Fareed took Poppy’s hand and squeezed it. Every second held a whole world of horrible possibilities for them both.

Then the elevator stopped, and the door opened. They stepped out of the elevator and looked around, then at each other.

“What now?” Poppy asked. “Should we start knocking, or just wait, or…?”

Fareed drew in a breath, his face troubled and uncertain.

Just then the door to 10 C slammed open. They spun to see Quincey marched through the doorway by a woman with long hair and red nails, who held a handgun to the side of his terrified face. A blue haired man trailed behind them both.

“Quincey!” Fareed cried, his voice breaking in terror and relief. His sweetheart was alive. But nobody wanted to see their lover with a gun against their head.

_…Oh god_ , Poppy had a split second to think. If Tora went up, and there was a gun and no sign of him… _oh god_ … what did that mean?

But then recognition snapped through her as her eyes met the woman holding Quincey hostage.

And then there was yet another reunion taking place, a reunion not between lovers but between family. Though its two members were not so relieved to see each other as Quincey and Fareed, they _were_ significantly more surprised. Poppy and the woman both froze in their tracks, locking eyes.

“… _Mom?”_

\---

‘Mom?’ That sounded like Poppy. But it wasn’t, right? No fucking way she was here. He’d left her in the cabin earlier that day, without a car.

So… no fucking way…

Goliath had handcuffed him to an exposed pipe running up the wall and taken away his gun, the Glock he’d stolen from Claude’s trunk. Tora could see the open front door, but none of the figures; they were in the hallway, out of Tora’s line of sight.

“ _Poppylan_? What are you doing here?” he heard the woman respond.

_Fuck, fuck,_ it was Poppy. But… ‘ _mom_?’ What the goddamned hell was happening? He wanted to break free and run to her, but the gun against Quincey's head was etched in his mind. What if he made things worse? He was not used to being helpless and on the sidelines; he was a man of action. He wanted, needed, to be out there, to protect the people he cared about. But...

“Put down the gun,” He heard Poppy beg.

“Let him go,” Fareed cried.

“Poppylan, get out of the way,” the woman responded.

Then suddenly there were too many voices talking at once. Tora could only make out bits and pieces: “Put down the gun and—” “Please, don’t—” “Poppylan, don’t--" “ _Everybody just—_ ” “Get back—”

With a thunderous _CRACK_ , a gun discharged.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tora cried. He wrenched himself away from the wall, yanking the chain hard against a joint of the pipe with every ounce of strength he possessed. The pipe cracked apart and a flood of water gushed from the break, drenching Tora instantly. He sprinted towards the door, sopping wet, his hands still bound.

\---

“Mom. Put down the gun, and…”

All the unanswered questions about where her mother had gone. _Why_ her mother had gone. The half-finished thoughts her father had swallowed with a shrug or a shake of the head, and a hug, and the assurance that _he_ wouldn’t leave… until he had no choice but to.

Poppylan took another step closer to her estranged mother, her hands up by her shoulders in a gesture of surrender, her lips trembling.

“Poppylan, _don’t_ …” her mother snapped, taking a step back and dragging Quincey with her. But Poppy kept closing the gap. The two women’s eyes were locked on each other. Poppylan’s expression spoke hurt and confusion; her mother’s was cold and panicked.

“Please, don’t…” Quincey started to say to Poppy, the cold metal of the gun still up against his forehead.

“Get back,” Goliath said to Poppy, swinging up a gun and pointing it at her. She didn’t seem to notice. The entirety of her attention was locked on her mother, and the gun at Quincey’s forehead.

“ _Please,_ _everybody just…”_ Fareed said loudly, his hands up as well, his voice unnaturally high with panic.

Poppy slowly reached out a hand, palm up, for the gun. Her mother shook her head, lips tight.

“Mom,” Poppy said again, softly. “Just…”

“ _Get back_ ,” Goliath said to Poppy for a second time, and took a step forward to tower over her. He was not as big as Tora; they had inherited wildly different genes on that front. However, he was still taller and broader than Poppy, and used to violence. It was easy for him to push her up against the wall with the barrel of his gun an inch from her lips.

“ _Don’t,”_ Poppy’s mother wailed suddenly, all composure breaking. She wrenched her own gun away from Quincey and pointed it at Goliath, who turned to see his lover threatening him. Goliath’s eyes turned hard as he lowered the gun away from Poppy.

“Mom, please…” Poppy begged.

Not willing to risk her daughter’s life, not willing to admit defeat. Poppy’s mother chose a new strategy for her getaway. She pointed her gun at the ceiling light overhead. She fired, and shoved Quincey away from her towards Poppy. Glass and sparks rained down from above as the hallway was plunged into darkness.


	36. Grandpa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I hope y'all enjoy, and thank you so much for reading :)

There are people in the world who scream the moment the lights shut out. Under ordinary circumstances, neither Poppy, Quincey, nor Fareed were the type to do so. However, ‘ordinary circumstances’ did not mean a gunshot in the middle of a very tense life-or-death situation.

So Tora raced into the dark hallway, unaware that nobody had been shot, knowing only that a gun had gone off, the lights had gone off, and everybody had started to scream.

“Poppy? Quince?” he yelled.

“Here,” Poppy said, as Quincey yelled “I’m okay!” Then Fareed turned on his phone flashlight, in time to illuminate Goliath reaching blindly for the stairwell door. Tora charged and tackled him, then yanked him up off the ground.

“No ya fuckin’ don’t,” Tora growled. With his handcuffed fists gripping Goliath’s shirt, Tora dragged him back to the group. “Anyone hit?”

They all shook their heads.

The woman was already gone.

“We gotta go,” Tora said. No way there wouldn’t be cops showing up soon after that gunshot. Thankfully Goliath had handcuffed Tora's hands in front of him, not behind him. Now that the cuffs weren’t wrapped around a pipe, he could reach into his pocket. Tora let go of Goliath and did so, grabbing one of the paperclips. The skin on his wrists was scraped up and raw from how much force he’d had to put on the pipe, but he ignored that for now. Tora unfolded the paperclip and bit the end to make a slight tooth for the lock.

“Here,” Goliath said gruffly, and pulled the actual key out of his pocket. Tora tossed the paperclip and let Goliath unfasten the cuffs.

Fareed and Quincey were hugging and talking to each other under their breaths, Fareed’s phone dangling in one hand to cast dim illumination on them all. Poppy was still up against the wall, a hand pressed over her mouth, staring at nothing.

“Hey,” Tora said to her, and reached out a hand to touch her arm. “You okay?”

He couldn’t even begin to process the situation with her mother and was prepared to leave that for later. But Poppy finally focused her wide eyes on Tora, and shook her head.

“This is what she left us for?” She said in a loud, flat whisper. “ _This_? _This_ is where she… what she… I don’t…”

“It wasn’t easy for her,” Goliath said, in defense of his woman. “She did miss ya. Only time I saw her cry was when she saw you were dead, on the news.”

“So you were close?” Poppy whispered, finally turning her eyes to the man who, moments before, had been holding a gun to her.

“We’re together,” he said.

“Who…” Poppy said, her voice that same flat, dead whisper.

“My brother,” Tora growled. “Goliath. Start of this whole fucking mess.” He couldn’t resist himself, and hit Goliath on the back of the head. Goliath turned and threw himself on Tora, fist raised.

“Hey, stop. What happened to needing to leave?” Quincey interrupted.

Tora hit Goliath one last time for good measure, and took the blue-haired man’s gun from him.

“Hey,” Goliath spat. Tora slid it into his waistband.

“Shut up and get in the elevator, dickhead.”

Quincey and Fareed got in first, holding hands. Then Goliath, who meekly handed Quincey his phone and then went into the far corner with his hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Then Tora took Poppy’s hand and led her in as well, and she trembled and leaned against him while Quincey pushed the lobby button. Fareed angled himself to stand between Quincey and Goliath. Quarters were tight in the elevator, and the air tense.

In the light of the elevator, Tora could see that he and Goliath were the only ones with dry faces. Christ, the rest of them had all been crying. He wrapped his arm around Poppy and pulled her tight against him, his thumb stroking her arm.

“We gotta go to your place,” Tora informed Fareed. “Only secure one we got right now.”

“Not him,” Fareed said, pointing to Goliath. Goliath sneered.

“I get it, but we…”

“No,” Fareed said. His hand shook but he stood his ground. “He is not welcome in my home. The rest of you may come.”

“Christ,” Tora muttered. Goliath turned away and leaned against the wall, his face a mask of indifference. Tora turned to him.

“Fuck if I care,” Goliath said. “Don’t wanna hang out with you losers anyway. I got places to be.”

“Fareed…” Tora said.

“No,” the man said, his tone final.

\---

Fareed agreed to let Tora borrow his car to drive Goliath elsewhere. Poppy resisted being sent in the rental car with Fareed and Quincey, but Tora grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her for the first time since they hard parted ways.

“I’ll be there soon,” he whispered to her. “Go, sweetheart.”

He drove silently with Goliath until they reached an abandoned parking lot a mile or two down the road. Tora pulled in and parked.

“…cigarette?” he muttered.

Goliath silently handed one over. Tora rolled down the windows and they both lit up.

Tora sighed and took a long, slow drag. It was the first cigarette he’d had in weeks. The flavor was foul (had they always tasted that bad?) but the nicotine went straight to his head, a slight and dizzying euphoria, welcome relief in the middle of the never-ending shit storm.

“You know if you’d hurt him I’d have beat ya ass,” Tora said, pulling the cigarette away from his lips for a moment.

“You _know_ he’s not your real brother, right?” Goliath muttered, sliding down in his seat and folding his arms.

“Let’s get this over with. The fuck are ya trying to do?”

“…Take down ya boss.”

“He’s not my boss anymore,” Tora said. “And Quincey doesn’t have fuck to do with that, so leave him out of it.”

“He was just insurance,” Goliath muttered. “Wasn’t gonna hurt him. Unless we had to.”

“You’re on ya last fuckin’ straw with me, ya know that?”

“You said that last time,” Goliath reminded him.

“You aren’t helping your case, dumbass,” Tora growled. “That chick. Poppy’s mom. Who the fuck is she to ya? What’s her deal?”

Goliath looked at Tora and smirked.

“Why? You want her?” 

“Fuck no, and she’s twice ya goddamned age.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll go for the new model. Her daughter’s a hot piece of—”

Goliath was cut off by Tora punching his shoulder far harder than was necessary.

“Ow, fuck,” Goliath said, grabbing the injury and glaring at his big brother. “The hell was that for?”

“You shut your goddamned fucking mouth about Poppy.”

“What, are you two…” Goliath grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

“ _I said_ , shut your…”

“Alright, I’ll keep dating her mom. Maybe I can be ya new daddy,” Goliath smirked.

“You _fuck_ …” Tora spun in his seat and punched Goliath right in the balls. His brother doubled over, his lips pale and parted in a silent cry of pain. “ _That woman_. It’s over. Ya hear me? Don’t fuckin’ see her again.”

“Uh-huh,” Goliath muttered weakly, still doubled over with his hands protectively over his crotch. “I’m gonna get ya back one day, you know?”

“You couldn’t fight your way outta a wet paper bag,” Tora muttered, exhaling smoke. “Listen. Let me handle Vincent. You stay clear out of it.”

“I know you feel some kind of way about him, but…”

“S’not that,” Tora said. “He can go fuck himself. But I got this. You just lay low a couple days.”

“I can take care of myself,” Goliath muttered, his face still contorted in pain.

They sat in silence for a minute. Goliath straightened slowly.

“…hear you found mom,” Tora mumbled at last. Goliath looked at him.

“Yeah? How the hell you know that?”

“Poppy. She found your notebook, told me. But she forgot the name.”

Goliath told him.

“Arunny?” Tora repeated, staring out the front windshield at nothing.

“Yeah. Look her up, there’s a photo online. Dad must’ve been big, ‘cuz she wasn’t.”

“Huh,” Tora said, and chewed absently on his lip. “Why… why did Vincent…?”

“Didn’t get that far,” Goliath said. “She was a waitress. At a Balthuman restaurant. I don’t know what he wanted from her.”

“Arunny…” Tora repeated, the name strange and unfamiliar on his lips.

“We have her eyes,” Goliath added. That made Tora look at him. “And… we got a granddad. Outside of Narin.”

“You talk to him?” Tora said hoarsely. Goliath snorted.

“Hell no. The fuck am I supposed to say? ‘Your dead daughter is my moms, nice to meetcha, I’m a thief and a killer?’”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Tora said. Then he snorted and tried his own introduction: “‘Hey gramps, the guy who killed ya kid raised me, by the way I’m a wanted felon, let me buy ya a beer.’” Tora started laughing and Goliath joined in, both their chests heaving as they shook their heads.

“He could have taken us when she died,” Goliath said soberly. “So…”

“…Yeah,” Tora said. He finished the cigarette and Goliath handed him another. “Look. I need to get back. You got a safe place?”

“Course. South of Ares street. Take a right goin’ out of the lot.”

“Goliath,” Tora said, starting the car back up.

“What?”

“If you ever fake your own death again, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Don’t scare me like that.”

“Whatever,” Goliath muttered, and turned away so that Tora wouldn’t see the little smile on his face.

\---

Fareed let Tora inside and showed him to the living room. Tora did not bother mentioning that he already knew the way.

“Tea?” Fareed asked. Tora shrugged and nodded and joined Poppy on the couch, putting his arm around her. Poppy and Quincey had fallen silent the moment Tora entered the room. They were both staring at him now. Quincey slowly took a sip from his mug.

“…What?” Tora asked grumpily.

“Dad,” Quincey said. “Poppy said you wanted to take him down…”

Tora shot a glare at the woman tucked under his shoulder, then looked back at Quincey.

“Look, I know it’s complicated for ya. But…”

“No, I get it. Really,” Quincey murmured. “But with the information Poppy found?”

“Seriously?” Tora muttered to Poppy. “You told ‘em?”

“Sorry, I thought you trusted him?” Poppy said innocently.

“Yeah, but…”

“Honey.” Quincey snapped his fingers to get Tora’s attention back. “If you go after him, there’s a fifty-fifty between you dying, and you ending up in jail.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Tora said, bristling. This was so fucking unfair. So now he had to fight not only against Poppy, but against Poppy _and_ Quincey?

“The police can do it, honey. With the information in that notebook…”

“I tell them the shit in there, and I go to jail.” Tora said.

“No, because…”

“Christ, Quince,” Tora muttered, taking his arm back from around Poppy. “You know I carried out half the goddamned hits on that list.”

Poppy, taking a sip of her own tea, nearly choked. Tora turned away from her rather than look at her expression.

“Immunity.” Fareed stood in the doorway with a mug. He came forward and put it down in front of Tora.

“Nobody’s giving me immunity,” Tora muttered, scratching his elbow.

“Actually,” Fareed started to say.

“Plea deal for some drug shit is one thing. Murder’s…” Tora interrupted.

“Just hear him out,” Quincey said.

“I’m good friends with the district attorney,” Fareed said. “She’s wanted Vincent for some time. He has remained elusive. With what you know, what you have seen…”

“And if they don’t take it, I’m in jail and Vincent’s untouched,” Tora said.

“We will arrange the immunity before you say anything,” Fareed assured him.

“Fuck, I’m already wanted. Second I show my face...”

“For murders you did not commit,” Fareed said.

“I’m proof of that,” Poppy butted in, putting an arm on his shoulder and peering up at him. “If I tell my story, then…”

“Fuck no. Absolutely not. You come out and Vincent…” He got up and paced away from her, from Quincey, from Fareed.

“Honey, calm down,” Quincey said. “I know it’s a lot to think about, but…”

“Tora.” That was Poppy. He met her big eyes. “Please. You _promised_ you wouldn’t do anything stupid. So please. It’s the safest option. We're all on your side.”

“…At least let me sleep on it,” he muttered. “Head’s fuckin’ spinning.”

“We should probably all sleep,” Quincey said. “It’s been a long day. Days. Weeks?” He shook his head and shuddered.

“Here, this couch pulls out,” Fareed said, and got up to move the coffee table out of the way.

“I still can’t believe you have a _pull-out couch_ ,” Quincey muttered, getting up off it. “You _know_ that’s tacky, right?”

“It’s _useful_ ,” said Fareed.

“So’s a guest bedroom,” Quincey said, rolling his eyes.

“Waste of money. What do I need a second bedroom for?”

“Guests!” Quincey said. “Extra closet space!”

“We don’t all need as much closet space as _you_ ,” Fareed said, pulling cushions off the couch as Poppy helped and Quincey and Tora watched.

“ _Me_? Well, at least I don’t _hide_ in mine, honey,” Quincey said.

“ _Actually_ ,” Fareed tossed a throw pillow at him, “I _talked_ to my parents, so…”

“ _What_?” Quincey squeaked, his voice an octave higher than normal. “What did… what did they…”

Fareed glanced at Poppy and Tora, his cheeks a little red.

“Well…” he started to say.

Poppy neatly placed a stack of couch cushions on the floor, grabbed Tora’s hand, and towed him into the kitchen.

“What?” Tora asked.

“Sounded like a personal conversation,” she whispered.

He wasn’t about to argue against having her to himself. He bent down to kiss her. Their lips pressed hard against each other. Poppy’s small hands wrapped around his waist as he threaded his fingers through her hair. Poppy pulled away first, swallowed, and looked at the ground.

“Tora,” she said. “We need to have a, um, personal conversation, too.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, tilting her face back up to kiss her again. But she looked serious, her mouth firm.

“How you left…”

He frowned. “Shit, Poppy, ya know what Quincey…”

“I’m not mad _that_ you left, Tora. I’m mad _how_ you left.”

“Christ, I…” His face burned. He'd meant it, when he said he loved her. He had to admit, he'd hoped she would say it back now that they were reunited. But she was glaring at him. “Look, I _know_ it was too soon to tell ya that I…”

There was a knock on the wall. Tora turned to see Quincey and Fareed hand in hand.

“We’re turning in,” Quincey announced.

“Help yourself to anything,” Fareed said. “There are sheets and things on the bed. If you need—”

“We’ll be fine,” Tora snapped.

“Thank you so much,” Poppy added gently, kicking Tora for being rude.

The two men vanished into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.


	37. Quiet

Tora turned back to Poppy. They were alone now in the kitchen, Fareed’s apartment quiet.

It was an odd counterpoint to their weeks in the cabin: alone but surrounded by a city’s worth of inhabitants; in a small room, but one filled with modern, sleek appliances, a world apart from the roughshod rustic hide-out. The rare sound that interrupted them now was just a siren, or a noisy car engine. There were no crickets, no chorus of cicadas.

But the woman in his arms—the warm, fizzy feeling in his chest—the almost painful ache that just _looking_ at her caused—that was unchanged. It didn’t matter where they were or what circumstances surrounded them.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Tora said. “Poppy…”

“Then don’t ever do that to me again,” she said fiercely.

Tora was so fixated on his earlier confession of love that it didn’t occur to him they could be talking about anything else. He’d never been _in love_ before. His whole drive from the cabin to Narin city had been spent in a loop of fear, then excitement, then panic. First fear for Quincey. Then a rush of excitement at the thought of Poppy. Then panic that maybe she hadn’t said it back because she didn’t feel the same way, conveniently forgetting he hadn’t given her a chance to.

Was he missing something now? He looked down at her furrowed eyebrows and sharp gaze. She was seriously pissed at him. He accepted that she might not love him back, especially now that they were out of the cabin. He wasn’t the only man in the world anymore; their play at ‘house’ was over. Still, anger? She was _angry?_

“Fine,” he muttered darkly. “Didn’t realize I meant so little to ya.”

“What are you talking about? You said ‘ _if I don’t see you again_.’ Do you know how scared I was?”

“Wait, this isn’t about the, the other thing?” he said.

“What?” Poppy’s face smoothed out. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

“You aren’t mad ‘cuz I said it too early?” he muttered, squinting at her, searching her expression for answers.

“Of course not! Why would I be mad about _that?_ ” Poppy cried, her hands tightening around him.

“Well, ya didn’t say it back…” Tora said.

“Tora, you ran away so fast I couldn’t get a word out!”

Okay, she wasn’t wrong. He cleared his throat.

“…Was an emergency…” he muttered awkwardly by way of an excuse. “Anyways… does that mean…”

She raised her eyebrows. He blushed and shifted his weight. “…don’t have to say it if ya don’t feel the same way,” Tora muttered.

Fuck, at least she wasn’t _mad_ at him for saying it. If he had a little more distance from the situation he probably would have known how ridiculous his thoughts about the whole thing were, but there was no distance for Tora; he was right in the thick of it, confused and in love and terrified by the whole thing.

“I _do_ feel the same way,” Poppy said, placing a hand on his bicep and gazing up at him.

His heart skipped a beat. He drew closer to her, bending his head so their lips hovered just a little apart, their eyes locked.

“…so?” Tora whispered expectantly.

“Uh-uh. This is a negotiation.”

“What, ya want a kiss or something?”

“No. I mean, yes, I do, but no. I want a promise.”

“You’re a bigger thug than me, ya know that?” he informed her. “Getting a little too good at stick-ups.”

But Poppy didn’t budge, and didn’t say the words he so desperately longed to hear from her.

“This whole thing? Fareed’s plan? You could clear your name and start over. I don’t see any other way we can have a life together. You killing Vincent doesn’t fix you being a fugitive. Him going to jail _does_.”

“Bobby…”

“So if you want me in your life, you won’t keep risking yours. And you won’t run off to dangerous situations without saying a real goodbye, even if it _is_ an emergency.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah, Tora. That’s all.”

“Okay,” he agreed. He would have agreed to anything.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised.

She reached up to grab either side of his face. Tora smiled as she pulled him down and rose to her tip-toes to reach him, kissing him gently before falling flat again.

“Tora? I love you.” There it was.

“Are you _sure_?” he asked.

“Of course I’m sure,” she said.

“Love you too,” he said. He felt giddy. Stupid with excitement. 

“Let’s go make up the bed,” Poppy suggested.

\---

The pull-out bed proved to be a few inches short for Tora, leaving him with the option of curling up or dangling his feet over the edge. He bent himself around Poppy, arms circling her, lips to her lips.

“I _love_ you,” he whispered again, and grinned. He couldn’t help it. The excitement hadn’t worn off yet.

“I love you too,” she murmured, her lips grazing against his.

“I’m sorry I freaked ya out,” he said.

“I’m just glad everything turned out okay,” Poppy said. “But you _should_ have taken me with you.”

“Pf. As if.” He pulled her a little tighter, running his hand up her spine under her shirt.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, putting her own hand on his hip, over the waistband of his boxers.

“I know you can,” he agreed in good humor.

“Then how come you didn’t let me come?”

“’Cuz I’m 6’3” and you’re five nothing.”

“I’m five _something_. And _screw_ 6’3”.”

“Is that an offer? ‘Cuz if you wanna screw me…”

“Oh my god, Tora. You know Quincey and Fareed are one room over from us?”

“Sweetheart, if ya think that’s a problem, ya _really_ don’t know Quincey. I promise he won’t give a flying fuck.”

“Well, _I_ give a, um…”

“Say it,” he teased.

“No. _I give a fudge_. There.”

“Tell me we can at least make out a little.”

“Obviously,” Poppy agreed.

His lips found hers again as his fingers skimmed her smooth skin. He traced his way back down her spine, then over her hip, then up to cup one of her heavy breasts. Leaning into her, Tora deepened the kiss. His eager erection pressed rigidly against her.

Poppy put a hand on his lower back and pulled his hips closer against hers, igniting a fire. He closed his hand tighter on her chest for a moment, then lowered it to explore her center. Poppy tilted her hips to meet his hand, a soft moan of arousal snaking from her lips to his ear. Tora groaned under his breath, feeling his shaft throb in response to her sound.

He traced his fingers over her panties, feeling the dip of her opening and the wetness of her desire through the cloth.

“Tora,” she whispered in protest. “Not here…”

He exhaled hard in disappointment but pulled his hand away. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her; the need pounded in him like she was a magnet drawing him closer. But he had to respect what she wanted.

Then she was climbing out of bed and pulling him with her. He didn’t know what was happening, but he was all for it. She led him to the bathroom and shut the door.

“What? Here? Seriously?” He whispered in confusion.

She turned on the fan.

“For the noise,” Poppy whispered.

He groped at the wall until he found her hand on the switch, and flipped the one above, turning on the light. She squeezed her eyes shut against the brightness as he blinked down at her. Tangled curls, big borrowed t-shirt draping off her chest and perky nipples. Wide, curving thighs. Rosebud lips and soft eyelashes. Utterly irresistible.

“Pops,” he whispered. “If ya that serious about them not knowing, we’re still gonna have to be _real_ quiet.” They had certainly _not_ been quiet any of their other times; there had been no need.

She nodded and lowered herself to her knees, tugging his boxers down with her. Tora inhaled sharply and then, no build up or hesitation, her lips were parting around his shaft, her head bobbing down his length.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he crooned softly, tangling his fingers into her hair. “Ah…” He gritted his teeth together to stop himself from making any more noise. A shudder ran through him as he resisted the urge to groan, her mouth sliding down his swollen erection. She only made it partway before her mouth was filled. Flooded with need, Tora gripped the back of her head and guided her a little further down his thick cock. She drew away from him, then back down, and then peered up.

He almost lost it just looking down at those big brown eyes and her lips wrapped around him. Christ. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to guide her lips up off of him, but he did, and lowered himself to his knees as well so they were both facing each other. Tora turned her around and pulled her onto his lap. He slid one hand under her panties to circle her clit and tease at her drenched opening. The other hand slid up under the shirt to clutch one of her breasts. He bent his head over her shoulder, breathing hard as he played with her. Poppy hissed through her teeth and moved her hips in response to his hand.

Something about keeping quiet drove her a little crazy, it seemed. He had only been exploring her for a few blissful moments when she started to buck up against his hand, throwing her head back onto his shoulder and panting hard, her lips parted in ecstasy.

He hooked two fingers inside her, his forearm locked over her mound. She kept moving against him, her clit rubbing against his wrist, her ass bumping and grinding on his engorged cock.

“I wanna fuck you,” he whispered into her ear. She bit her lip and exhaled sharply, then pressed her lips against the side of his neck and released a loud cry, barely muffled. His hand froze for a moment; he peered down at her. She stared back.

"Shoot," she whispered. 

He pushed her off his lap, onto her knees. Tora got up, then turned the shower on full blast to cover their noises better.

“Good idea,” she whispered. He crouched down and hunted through the sink cabinet. Thank fucking god there was a box of condoms.

“We can’t take that,” Poppy protested breathlessly.

“Said to help ourselves to anything,” Tora reasoned, his voice low. “You want to or not?”

She nodded. He ripped open the wrapper and unrolled the tight covering over his member, eyes fixed on her. Tora peeled the shirt up over her head and started to push her down onto her back, but Poppy clung to him and refused.

“Not the floor!” she protested. “It’s a bathroom!”

“Christ, woman.”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet, then shoved the panties down from around her crotch. Poppy stepped out of them. He grabbed her by the hips and lifted her, then pushed her against the wall.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. With his arms cupping her thighs and ass to hold her up, he pinned her against the wall and lined his erection up with her entrance. Tora pushed into her, coating himself with her wetness. A soft groan escaped his lips as she took him in, tight and warm, sending a wave of pleasure up his shaft, down to his toes, up to the crown of his head.

He pulled out and dipped back in, grinding her against the wall to bury his large cock as deeply in her as he could. Poppy moaned softly. That was going to be a problem for both of them, especially if he went faster. He locked his lips against hers to keep both of them quiet, and began to thrust.

They hummed and moaned softly into each other as Tora’s cock plunged in and out of her, the thick shaft slicking deep into her center. He started to pick up the pace, and there was the sound of skin slapping skin as his balls swung forward with each thrust, and their bodies crushed together. He kept supporting her, his arms straining as his hips jerked himself in and out of her.

Their lips weren’t soft on each other now but pressed together hard; not so much kissing as trying to gag each other. They breathed hard through their noses. Nonetheless little cries escaped them both at each thrust’s eruption of pleasure. Choked-back moans mingled with the pounding shower, the smack of skin, and the whirr of the fan.

Then Tora came hard and fast into her, release washing through him as a low moan escaped his lips. She groaned too, feeling him pulse and empty into her. Tora pulled his lips away from Poppy and bowed his sweaty head to hers. Slowly, he drew his cock out of her. Poppy untangled her legs and he lowered her to the floor, where she leaned shakily against the wall.

He drew off the condom carefully and tied it up. He swathed it in toilet paper and hid both it and the wrapper in the waste bin.

“I can keep going,” he offered, uncertain whether she had finished.

“No, I just want to lie down with you,” Poppy murmured, and pressed her lips against his chest.

\---

Right before they fell asleep, Poppy shuddered a little.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Tora asked sleepily, taking her hand.

“I’m fine. Just remembered something,” Poppy whispered back.

“What?”

“Your… your _brother_. And my _mom_. Ew.”

“Yeah, if we could avoid talkin’ about that just now, that’d be great.”

“Fine by me,” Poppy said, and curled against him.

If he could have given them both intact, happy families, he would have in a heartbeat. But at least there was one upside to dysfunction: no threat of family holidays. Because holy fucking god, wouldn't _that_ be awkward.

\---

The next morning, while Tora groggily filled a glass of water from the kitchen sink, Quincey sidled up to him.

“So _you_ two had fun, huh?” Quincey said conspiratorially, with a big wink.

It was way too early for puzzles.

“The fuck ya talkin’ about?” Tora mumbled, blinking at his sickeningly cheerful, wide-awake sibling. Doubtlessly the last few days were still weighing on Quincey, but the blonde was an unparalleled master at repressing pain. He’d spent years as the buffer between his dad and adopted brother, turning dark situations light, absorbing hatred and anger and learning to spin it around into something else.

“Last night? In the shower?” Quincey said in a loud mock-whisper.

“Fuck.” Tora rubbed his eyes. “Were we that loud?”

“Oh, honey. _Yes_. Yes, you were.”

“Fuck. Sorry. Please don’t tell her.”

“Me? _Never._ ” Quincey drawled. “But you owe me the story.”

“I’m not tellin’ you the details, ya creep,” Tora mumbled.

“Not of _that_. The _romance_ part. Is it serious?”

“You’re one to talk. What happened to ‘never love again?’” Tora deftly diverted the conversation, knowing that Quincey would probably still notice the faint blush on his cheeks. He leaned against the kitchen counter and took a sip of water.

“Heh.” Quincey threaded his fingers through his un-styled blonde hair, a self-satisfied smile playing on his face. “Well, you give good advice.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You said, if I really liked him I should stick it out.”

“Wait, Fareed’s the guy who dumped ya…? Christ, how long have ya…?”

“Okay, _that_ was mutual. But are we talking ‘first time we fucked’ or are we talking ‘officially dating?’ Because…”

“We’re talking ‘it’s too early for this shit,’” Tora grumbled, shaking his head and returning to the living room.


	38. Consultation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little baby chapter, sorry! Updates may be sporadic over the next few days, so if I miss another day just know that I will be back, and soon. I'm loathe to make any guesses about chapter numbers; the end is in sight but I never know whether my plot bullet points will turn into a sentence or a whole scene. So, three chapters left? Ten chapters left? I have no idea! But we're in or at least approaching the final stretch. And I think the very final update will be a couple of illustrations for the story, including some NSFW ones... I have at least two already planned but if there are any scenes you especially loved and want an illustration of feel free to request (no pressure if not though, haha).
> 
> Also, a note on the legal stuff. Again, not sure how much will end up in the remaining chapters (will I skim over it or will I bore you with extremely unnecessary details about the justice system? -TIME WILL TELL!-), but although I imagine Narin being sorta-kinda-somewhere-in-Asia given other context clues, I'm basing all of Fareed's bits on U.S. law and generally the ALI's Model Penal Code, because that's what I'm familiar with.

“Here,” Fareed said, handing Tora a sheet of paper. They were seated in his home office, Fareed on one side of his desk, Tora on the other. Poppy and Quincey had both been kicked out to the living room.

Tora skimmed the document. Names swam up at him, some he hadn’t seen for years, a whole catalogue of deaths and deals. A list of sins that passed through Tora’s hands to point back at Vincent.

“What is this?” he said, unable to break his eyes away from it. Memories of blood, of bodies, of dark nights, of knives… memories long suppressed. Tora swallowed.

“Immunity,” Fareed said simply. “For your testimony against Vincent, the D.A. has agreed to immunity for everything on that sheet. Nothing else, so I suggest you memorize it carefully, and let me speak for you when possible. Any mention of other… jobs… you did for him, and you may find yourself in trouble.”

“And what if someone else brings ‘em up?” Tora wanted to know.

“Then we do what we can to deny it. But at least do not let it come from your mouth.”

Tora frowned. He folded the sheet in half, and then in half again, and leaned back in his chair. He was well aware that testifying against Vincent was like walking straight into a lion’s den. Even if the crime lord was hobbled, there were bound to be a dozen other thugs turning on Tora.

In the immortal words of Tupac, ‘snitches is outta here.’ The fallout would either be violence or dirt, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. He was about to cross a hell of a lot of lines.

“You’re sure this’ll work,” Tora said.

“The Vincent part? Yes, fairly. But there is another catch,” Fareed said.

“Fuckin’ of course,” Tora grumbled. He narrowed his eyes at Fareed, who shrugged as if to say, _well, what can you do_.

“…You still have to turn yourself in,” Fareed said.

“So?”

“So, you will notice the crimes you are wanted for? They are not on that list.”

Tora unfolded the paper again and stared at the list again, as if hoping Fareed was wrong.

“What? Killin’ those journalists?” Tora’s eyes snapped up off the paper and looked at Fareed. “You know I didn’t.”

“By my count?” Fareed said. “You will be charged with five counts of murder, and evading arrest. But I am confident about winning or dismissing all of them.”

“That’s a fuckin’ death sentence, or life,” Tora said, his eyes wide as he stared at Fareed. “That’s one big fucking risk you’re asking me to take.”

“Erdene, Gil, Jacob,” Fareed said, counting them out on his fingers. “You did not kill them; you are innocent. Poppylan. She is alive; you are innocent. Scharch. You _did_ kill him, but this an excellent candidate for a self-defense case. You are innocent. Evading arrest. You are definitely guilty, but it is a misdemeanor.”

“Scharch wasn’t self-defense.”

“You were defending Poppylan. Self-defense still applies, if a little misnamed.” Fareed tapped the finger he’d held up for ‘Poppylan.’

“I also stole a car. A few cars.”

Fareed lowered his hands and blinked.

“The one I sent money for?” Fareed asked. “The police are, I think, unaware of it. What other cars…?”

“One from Vincent, when he drugged me. One from Claude, running from the motel.”

“From Vincent, you have a good case that it was necessary. The situation was not your fault, and your life was at risk. From Claude… trickier. Would Poppy say she took it?” Fareed asked, scratching his chin as he stared into space.

“Fuck no, she’s not taking the blame for that,” Tora growled.

“But she is…” Fareed started to say. Tora shook his head emphatically. Fareed sighed “Well, optimistically. The circumstances… a jury might sympathize with you. For that, and the other car. The one we already paid for, if it comes to light.”

“What’s that mean?”

“A chance the thefts could be misdemeanors, not felonies. Not a guarantee. Especially given your record.”

“Christ, is _any_ of this a guarantee?”

“No. It never is. Best if we can leave the cars out of it. Make no mention of them again.”

They both fell to silence. Fareed tapped his fingers on the desk. Tora stared at the folded square of paper, running his mind over his options.

None were good. Although he _had_ options, he could not help but feel like he was backed up into a corner, no escape. _Something_ bad was coming no matter which way he turned. And that was the problem with the future, really. Tora stood at a crossroads, but nothing was guaranteed. Every step of life was a gamble, whether calculated or reckless. He could deliberate all he wanted, but he was going to have to choose, and there was no telling what the final outcome would be.

He could stay criminal. Go after Vincent, take him down, and live in the shadows. Spend the rest of his life avoiding the cops and keeping low.

He could turn himself in and offer up years of secrets to take Vincent down, but risk all the force of the legal system coming down on him too. Hell, even innocent people went to jail sometimes, and Tora had a lifetime of blood on his hands.

But if the risk was high either way… what about the reward?

Poppy would be free when Vincent was gone, and Tora had a solid chance of taking his old boss down no matter which path he chose. But Tora wanted _more_ than for her to be free. He wanted a chance with her, a chance for a better life, a real one.

She didn’t deserve to live in the shadows with him, and he couldn’t see letting her go.

If he took the other path. Fareed’s path. There was a chance… that Tora could start over. Get out unscathed, leave the mafia. For the first time, he let himself imagine a future away from Ares street.

It unfolded in his mind, flashes like premonitions. He saw a house, a ring, Poppy pregnant, a dog, her gossiping with a friend, a swing in the back yard…

Did he want that? Did _she_ want that? Fuck, he didn’t know. It was too soon to know.

But he wanted a chance, a choice. He wanted that door to stay open.

Fareed was waiting for an answer. Fighting every impulse in his body, Tora opened his mouth to speak.

“Call officer Lane,” He said, his husky voice a little rough. “You can tell her I’ll turn myself in. Tomorrow.”


	39. Blondie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often include little tidbits or lines from the latest fast pass without giving an explicit warning each time, but this chapter, A Whole New Character, so like, be ye forewarned.

Neither Poppy nor Tora slept much that night. Despite the seriousness of the charges, Fareed thought Tora would be allowed bail, since he was turning himself in, agreeing to work with the police, and had already retained counsel. Still, nothing was certain until it happened. Poppy and Tora spent the night talking and holding each other, anxiously savoring what they feared might be their last moments.

But in the end, Fareed was right. Poppy went to the police station alongside Tora, to prove she was alive and to have her statement taken. Fareed insisted that they be processed at separate times so that he could accompany both as their counsel, keeping an eye on exactly what was said and taking notes as diligent as any of the officers.

They held both Tora and Poppy at the station hours longer than necessary, for safety reasons. Although there had been prior notice that Tora had information on Vincent, it still took some time for a tactical team to be assembled and to raid Vincent’s mansion.

Later that evening, the whole country—if they so chose—could turn on the news and watch the crime lord Vincent Balthuman led out of his house in handcuffs. Although Tora was released on bail, Vincent was not given that option.

Both their trials would be in two months’ time. That would be the real reckoning. Tora was charged with four murders, including Scharch’s, and evading justice. Vincent was loaded down with a laundry list of crimes: twenty-three counts of criminal conspiracy, six murder charges, fraud, embezzlement, human trafficking, and a sundry list of other crimes.

The four of them sat in Fareed’s living room not an hour after their return from the station, strategizing and recovering and celebrating that Tora was not being detained until the trial.

“We still gotta be careful,” Tora said firmly to Poppy. “Just ‘cuz Vincent is away, he’s still got men out there with his interest in mind. And if he goes down, some of ‘em go down with him. Shadow division is gonna be looking for both of us.”

Two hours later, the talk had died down. Fareed was working on his laptop; Poppy and Quincey were reading. Tora was fiddling with an old oud that Fareed had produced for him, trying to play it like a guitar.

Fareed’s phone rang.

“It’s the jail,” he said quietly. He shrugged and accepted it.

“Hello…? Oh, Mr. Balthuman?”

Everyone’s faces turned to stare at him in shock. Quincey in particular looked perturbed.

“…counsel? I see. Yes, I did see the footage of your arrest. On the news… no… I cannot represent you… why? Oh, because I’ve already been retained on a related matter. Good-bye, Mr. Balthuman.”

Fareed hung up and smirked.

“It seems he is not satisfied with the lawyer he keeps on retainer,” he informed them casually.

\---

“Ya look worried,” Tora said to Poppy. They were alone on Fareed’s balcony, against Tora’s better judgment. Although the balcony faced towards a park and not the street, there were still too many places that a sniper could hide. Still, two months in an apartment without air was too much to ask. A week in and it was already difficult; they had talked a few times already about renting somewhere larger and more secure but had yet to settle on a plan. "Nervous about tomorrow or somethin'?"

"What, visiting my grandma? Not at all. "

"Ya don't think she'll hate me?" he muttered, scratching his neck. He was all too aware that her grandma had spent the last few weeks seeing _his_ face in connection to her supposed death. Even though Poppy was very much alive, it was a hell of a first impression.

"No, she won't. But anyways, it's not that."

“Then what?” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and Poppy frowned.

“It’s silly. My mom.”

“Doesn’t sound silly,” Tora said.

“I thought I was okay, not knowing where she went, or why. Or at least, if not okay, that I had accepted it. That we don’t get all the answers we want.” Poppy folded her arms and leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the small green space before them.

“Seein’ her changed that?”

“Yeah. I sort of figured she was off with, I don’t know, a new family. I never thought…”

“Yeah,” Tora said, and tried to imagine that it would feel like.

“I want to talk to her,” Poppy said suddenly. “Do you think… your brother…?”

“Maybe,” Tora said, and put his arm around her. “I’ll ask.”

\---

They returned inside to find a disagreement between Fareed and Quincey.

The focus was on a list from that morning. For the defense against Scharch's murder, Fareed had made Poppy and Tora list—in detail—every location that Poppy had gone with a sling on her arm, hoping to find witnesses besides Claude who had seen evidence of the injury. Poring over maps and consulting the internet, they'd compiled gas stations, motels, parks, and the train station. They'd even gotten Quincey to dig up the address of the stolen car as a last result; Fareed didn't want the car brought into the case, but the man who Tora had pick-pocketed was as likely a candidate for remembering Poppy as any.

Now they needed to send someone to check on all the leads.

“She’s the best one for the job,” Quincey said to Fareed as Tora closed the balcony door.

“I am aware of that,” Fareed said.

“Just let me call her,” Quincey said, grabbing for the list.

“I can handle it,” Fareed grumbled, holding it out of his reach.

“But you always make things so _awkward_ ,” Quincey said, rolling his eyes.

“I do _not_. I am _professional._ Besides, why should _you_ want to speak with her again?”

“Oh, honestly,” Quincey huffed. “The way you act, you’d think I hadn’t chosen you. She and I are just friends.”

“I have a right to my feelings,” Fareed muttered, and punched a number on his phone.

Two hours later there was a knock on Fareed’s door. Quincey stood up to open it; Fareed glared at him and got there first.

The person on the other side of the door was tall and gorgeous, brown skinned with an orange undercut and shockingly grey eyes. She held a red motorcycle helmet under one arm.

“Hey Fareed. Blondie,” she said.

“Cordelia,” Fareed said coolly. “Come to the office. I have the list and the maps ready for you, as well as photographs.”

Seemingly unfazed by Fareed’s tone, Cordelia gave both Poppy an assessing glance as she followed Fareed to the office.

“That’s her?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fareed said.

Quincey stayed put on the couch with Tora and Poppy. Quincey was awkwardly silent because he knew what was happening. Poppy was awkwardly silent because she _didn’t_ know what was happening. Tora was silent in a very casual, comfortable way, because he did not _care_ what was happening.

At last Cordelia and Fareed emerged.

“Ciao,” Cordelia said to Quincey, documents in hand, and left.

“If there is someone to find, she will find them,” Fareed said to the three of them on the couch, then vanished back into his office.

Quincey got up and ran in after him.

“Pumpkin, wait,” Quincey said, and closed the office door behind him.

“What was that about?” Poppy whispered to Tora. Tora shrugged and went back to fiddling with the oud.

For a while there were low, upset voices coming from the office. Then not. They seemed to have made up, because both men emerged looking happier than they had gone in, and Quincey planted a kiss on Fareed’s cheek before Fareed blushed and went into the kitchen to start dinner.

Poppy, buried in a book, glanced curiously at Quincey a few times but kept trying to keep her gaze on the page in front of her.

“If you have a question, honey…” he drawled, taking a seat and putting his legs up on the coffee table.

“I don’t want to pry,” Poppy squeaked.

“ _Please_ pry. I _love_ when people pry.” His voice was honest, not sarcastic. 

“Cordelia…?”

“My ex. She didn’t want to settle down. It’s over, but Fareed keeps thinking I’ll leave if she changes her mind.” He turned over his shoulder and said, loudly, for the benefit of the man in the kitchen, “and I _won’t_.”

“Yes, thank you, we’ve established that,” Fareed called back. 

“Oh,” Poppy blinked. “I, um. Didn’t think you dated women?”

“Actually, Cordy is non-binary,” Quincey said airily. He reached for his own book and eased the spine open, then added: “but anyways, honey, I’m bi.”

“It’s just, did you have to date someone so _beautiful_?” Fareed muttered, carrying in a tray with fruit, crackers, and cheeses.

“Lord help me,” Quincey said, reaching forward to take a grape. “Poppy, for your sake, I hope your ex wasn’t gorgeous, so you don’t have to deal with… with _this_ ,” Quincey finished, waving his hand in Fareed’s general direction as Fareed glared at him and muttered, " _g_ _orgeous?"_

“Oh, he wasn’t. But Fareed, you shouldn’t be jealous. You’re very pretty too,” Poppy said encouragingly.

Tora blinked and frowned. “Uh…” he said.

“Oh, look what you did. Now you’ve gotten _him_ started,” Quincey said. “Poppy, tell Tora he’s pretty or he’ll be glaring daggers at Fareed all night.”


	40. The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know folks have said irregular updates are fine, but I unfortunately no longer have the time or energy to commit to fan fic. So, I’m ending it with this chapter rather than spending the next month+ trickling out what should have just been a few days of updates. 
> 
> I’ve had such a blast writing MPL fics these last few months and connecting with all of y’all, but with this impromptu, abridged epilogue (sorry)… Ciao amiche! Thank you all for your patience, for your comments, and for reading!

The months leading up to the trials went quickly. So much emotion was condensed into those days it was like living in a movie, not real life; so much more could happen or be felt in a few hours’ time than was normal in everyday living.

First, they were all exhausted and stressed preparing for the trial. There were interviews, depositions, what-ifs…

Second, the reunions. Seeing her grandmother and her childhood friends again, Poppy cried more than Tora had ever seen her—seen anybody—cry. He was mildly alarmed by the experience. Standing by the doorway as he watched them all embrace, he had the uncomfortable experience of being an outsider looking in. Then Poppy called him over. He took a few tentative steps, hands in his pockets, ready for rejection; until a few days prior, they’d all thought he was her _killer_ —and then he was being embraced, too, by these women he’d never met, and thanked for protecting her. He blushed and muttered a few ‘anytimes’ and ‘no big deals.’ Before he knew it he was seated at a table with all of them and having food pushed in front of him and being asked a hundred uncomfortable questions ranging from his hobbies and interests to his dating history and his intentions with Poppy. To Poppy’s credit, she did her best to divert the conversation, but to little avail.

Third, simply put: the danger. Fareed’s place was attacked first. The break-in happened at night. Tora leapt out of bed at the sound of the office window squeaking open. He charged in and dispatched quickly with the masked man who was mid-way through gathering files for the trial. In the process, he woke the others, but sent them all to hide in Fareed’s room and called Gyu to help with the clean-up instead.

And there were other assassination attempts, too, though none that succeeded or even wounded; still, he spotted a sniper watching the balcony and called Lane immediately. She was able to arrange a small house for them on the outskirts of Narin City as part of a witness program. It would only last them to the trial, but with luck once Vincent was sentenced, the greatest of the threats would be gone.

\---

Generally speaking, Tora trusted Fareed’s strategy and followed his advice. Not for nothing was Quincey’s lover considered one of the top criminal defense lawyers in all of Narin. But there was one point on which they disagreed, both men displaying a fiercely stubborn streak.

“You _must_ have the jury on your side,” Fareed said, emphasizing the point with dramatic hand waving. “With your _record_ , your _reputation_ , and even, yes, your _look_ , there is a risk—”

“Not happening,” Tora snapped.

“It will take no time,” Fareed said. “A few hours for the chance to tell your own story, for the country to—”

“I _fucking said no_ ,” Tora growled.

“I’ll do it,” Poppy said, putting a calming hand on Tora’s shoulder.

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” Tora said, eyes widening.

“You will?” Fareed said, eyes also wide.

“Sure,” said Poppy. “If you think it’ll help.”

“Yes,” Fareed said with a nod. “In fact, it may be even better. You are certainly more sympathetic than him.”

“Poppy, no,” Tora said. “You’ll have a target on ya head the moment—”

“It’s my choice,” Poppy said evenly.

“I will set something up,” Fareed said. “One week before the trial would be best. And I’ll make sure all questions are sent in advance, so we can prepare together.”

And so it was that Poppy ended up on national television, filmed—at Tora’s insistence—at an undisclosed location rather than the studio. Narin country watched her tell the story of how she and Tora escaped from certain death at the hands of Vincent Balthuman, how they fell in love, and what she hoped for from the future. 

\--

“Come on, you little…” Minh muttered, his head and shoulders under the couch as he chased Sake first one way, then the other. Behind him, the T.V. was playing background noise.

He’d opened the cage to feed Sake—just _feed_ him—and the little creature had run _up his arm_ and escaped. Minh wished he could say it was unexpected, but it was far from the first escape the little terror had made.

His hands at last closed on top of Sake, trapping the hamster against the floor in a cage of fingers. He dragged the little fiend out from under the couch, hissing in pain as a set of tiny teeth closed around his fingers.

_“…I managed to grab the hamster cage as we were running, but my shoulder was injured and it was really hard to run,_ ” the soft female voice on the T.V. said.

“Listen here,” Minh said to Sake, carrying the critter over to the cage. “You do that again, and I swear I will sell you to the dog food factory down the road…”

“Dad!” Minh’s daughter shrieked, looking up from her coloring book. “You _can’t_!”

“I won’t,” Minh said, rolling his eyes as he fastened the cage closed. “He doesn’t know, Mai, it’s just a joke.”

_“…well, we picked a house with toys in the yard, somewhere in Ten-Falls_.”

Minh turned back to the television and plopped on the couch with a sigh. He put his feet up on the coffee table.

_“…I don’t know whether they kept him, but we wrote a note, so I hope wherever he is he’s getting fed… honestly, I know it sounds silly on top of everything else, Tora tells me that all the time, but that was one of the hardest moments for me. But Tora was so understanding and patient, and he carried that cage for four blocks before I found a house I felt good about…”_

“That was _you_ ,” Minh said in wonder to Sake. “Woah.” He pitched his voice to carry through the house. “Honey! Hey! We’re on the news! Kind of!”

\---

Then the trials were over. Tora was found not guilty; Vincent was jailed for life without parole. Tora felt like his heart unclenched. Fareed took a few days to celebrate and then picked up a new client and went right back to work. Quincey cried and couldn’t say whether they were happy tears or sad ones. More than anyone else, Tora understood what he meant: they were all relieved that Vincent was gone, but family was a complicated thing.

In the weeks following her interview, Poppy received a flood of emails. She had to disable the notifications on her new smartphone, because a new message came in every few minutes without fail. She did her best to read all of them. People wanted to share their own stories, or thank her, or offer her jobs.

Some, of course, were awful. Strange men asked her out on dates. Others, and these made Tora the angriest, threatened her. Teenagers—he could tell from a quick glance they weren’t real Balthuman members—sent death threats on behalf of their ‘boss.’ A few times he stole her phone and scrolled through the emails, deleting the bad ones before she could see them.

One business proposal stood out from the others. Old Mr. Lam emailed to say that if Poppy still wanted an investment, he was willing to give it. It was Poppy, not Giant Goldfish, he’d been interested in working with, and Q.B. Noyouko whose talent he’d wanted. He wrote to Poppy that he was inspired by her courage. If she could put together a business plan for a new editing company, he would fund her—so long as she included someone with real business expertise on her team.

“You know about business, right?” Poppy asked Tora, showing him the message. “I could handle the editing, and you—”

“No way, sweetheart,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “I can barely hold a pen. Ya need someone with experience.” He wasn’t sure yet what he’d do for a job, but he had a few ideas. Alice had even offered to let him come back and work for her again.

Poppy tried Fareed and Quincey next. Fareed said he could recommend a good lawyer for any business needs, but that was it. Quincey had no interest in _being_ an editor, but needed no convincing to take on Mr. Lam’s project.

“…anyways, saying I’m on board should help you hire anyone you want,” the blonde man said with a big stretch and a self-satisfied smile.

Mr. Lam wanted to meet with Poppy to talk over her direction even before she finalized anything or found co-workers. He seemed interested in mentoring her. So Tora drove her to a meeting at a nice restaurant. While Mr. Lam and Poppy sat at a small table and talked business, Tora took a moment to think. Then he turned to one of Mr. Lam’s bodyguards.

“Hey. How’d you get the gig?” he asked.

They talked about bodyguarding for the remainder of the meeting. When Mr. Lam stood up to go, the bodyguard added to Tora: “Just apply. Carson’s leaving in a week and Mr. Lam already likes you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tora muttered, scratching his head and watching Poppy laugh at some joke the old man had just made.

\--

A few days later, Tora stood in the bedroom of their new apartment, unpacking clothes. They were officially out of the safe house and new renters of a well-secured unit in a high rise. It felt surreal to him, still, all of it. Living with Poppy (sure, they’d been co-habiting for months, but this felt _different_ , intentional), being out of the mob, being clean with the law. He’d even gotten a job offer from Mr. Lam and was taking the evening to mull it over.

He ripped open a cardboard box and dumped out the clothes Poppy had carefully folded.

“Tora!” she yelled from the living room.

Instincts alive, he lunged through the doorway. She was sitting on the floor, her laptop on her low table, taking a break from unpacking books to look through her emails.

“What?” he asked.

“Look!” She spun the laptop around to face him. He came over and bent down to look at the email on her screen. She’d opened an attachment to reveal a blurry picture of a hamster.

“Shit, is that…?”

“Yeah!” Poppy spun the laptop back towards her and leaned towards the screen. “It’s him… the guy we… oh, my gosh, Tora…” Tearing up, she put her hand over her mouth.

He came around the table and sat next to her so he could look at the screen at the same time. Tora read the email along with her. At the end: _if you want him back please call me. We would love him to go home to you_.

\---

A week before his new job with Mr. Lam, Tora and Poppy drove all the way to Ten-Falls to pick up Sake from Minh’s family.

“You’re sure you don’t mind giving him back?” Poppy asked fretfully as Tora took the cage. She was already starting to cry, swiping away the building tears.

“Not at all,” Minh said, with heartfelt sincerity. “He _bites_. And he’s always getting out of his cage.”

“Yes he is,” Tora muttered under his breath. He turned to carry the cage to the car while Poppy kept talking to Minh, thanking him for taking care of Sake and apologizing profusely for everything that had happened.

“Ya know you caused this whole mess, asshole,” Tora muttered to Sake as he strapped the cage into the backseat. He stood for a moment with the car door open and looked at the hamster sleeping peacefully in a clear plastic igloo. Tora sighed.

Sake might have caused more trouble than any creature of that size had a right to, but… could Tora really complain?

If he hadn’t pet-sit Sake, he wouldn’t have been at Poppy’s place when he spotted Vincent’s men following him. He wouldn’t have gotten intimate with Poppy, or traded a meeting with Quincey for the right to keep her safe from the unknown threat. They wouldn’t have been out together when Scharch and Claude came looking for her. Poppy would be dead, and they never would have gone on the run together. He never would have fallen in love.

Without Sake, he’d still be Vincent’s henchman. His favorite part of every day, Poppy, wouldn’t even be around anymore. His future would be as bleak and hopeless as ever, his days just as dark and shameful. If it weren’t for Sake… his life would be meaningless.

“Yeah, guess you’re alright,” Tora muttered, and closed the car door.


End file.
